


Storms at Lakeshore

by KatcadeCascade (DreamWings231)



Series: Lakeshores [2]
Category: 3Below, Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons), Trollhunters - Daniel Kraus & Guillermo del Toro
Genre: Alien Biology, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Changeling Jim Lake Jr, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Family Feels, Fantastic Racism, Feels, Gen, Kangiar Lives AU, M/M, Magic, Mild Body Issues, Multi, Troll Biology
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2020-09-25 23:53:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 59,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20380210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamWings231/pseuds/KatcadeCascade
Summary: With the threat of Bular gone, the Trollhunter and the descendants of the Lady of the Lake now see other dangers still hiding in Arcadia.Things are changing for better or for worse and a rotten troll assassin is at the core of it.





	1. Start Small

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I can't wait to share with you with what I got for this Angor Rot season! 
> 
> It's gonna be a fun and bumpy ride. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading Tides and now I hope you all enjoy Storms!

_Draal was knocked out of the way from another slash of Bular’s sword. He was prepared to block, he was prepared to defend this beast from his family but he was kicked out of the way._

_Nomura took his place under the weight of Bular’s strike._

_The Gumm-gumm prince growls at her with another slash, “You dare defy me for him?”_

_“I won’t let you hurt him ever again!” Nomura counters with her own swords and Draal sees a protective rage he has never seen before._

_That’s when the rippling smoke and lights under Killahead Bridge sporadically flickers and a voice booms through the room._

_“Bring me that impure,” a voice of nightmares commands._

_Draal feels too slow, like all his past mistakes have decided to become a physical mass for this one moment as Bular gets the upper hand and tosses Nomura through the portal._

_There was no other decision but to jump after her._

_The Darklands, a place of jagged pillars of stone with a red atmosphere of doom takes over Draal’s vison as he enters. Immediately at the gateway opening is an army of Gumm-gumms. Draal hasn’t seen this many since the Deya’s battle at this very bridge. _

_He tries to get to Nomura’s side but the soldiers have already surrounded her. _

_As always, she’s graceful in her ferocity as she slashes them to stone and Draal charges his way through the pack of trolls to get to her side._

_“What are you doing here, you idiot!” Nomura jump kicks at a troll and flips her way to Draal’s own circle of soldiers. _

_“I told you,” he yells back, axing at a Gumm-gumm with one hand and punching at whoever is too close. “I’m not giving up on you, Nomura!”_

_She has on that same face from that night ago, where he asked her to switch sides. She looks so scared and touched but she chose to back away from him. But now, that fear in her eyes is there but Nomura has on that small smile of hers that Draal just loves._

_And then she roars with her sword held high and slashes in his direction. Nomura stabs a troll that was so close to stabbing Draal._

_“Less talking,” she told him but softly she said, “You’re still my idiot.”_

_“I know,” Draal grinned. _

_But this moment ends too quickly, too horribly, as the Gumm-gumm king stomps loudly to gain everyone’s attention. _

_“Send her away,” he growls and barely spares a glance in their way. Gunmar continues his path to the gateway. _

_“No!” Draal screams and stays by her side as all the soldiers begin to crowd them into a tight ring. _

_That’s when the portal flashes and the last troll Draal ever wants in the Darklands is here. _

_Kanjigar the Courageous is here without the amulet of Daylight and he doesn’t give Gunmar any notice as he runs over to his son and his partner. He just punches his way through, stealing a lance and spearing his way through the crowd. _

_The numbers soon take over by the time Kanjigar reached them, Nomura was getting pulled away. Draal does his best to attack but each swing becomes more desperate and frantic and wild as Nomura is left with one sword and a bruised eye. _

_And they take her, they take her kicking and screaming away from him and Draal feels all the eyes watching them. The sheer weight of his failure of a protector being entertainment to an emotionless audience crushes Draal’s rationality as he frantically attack everyone around him._

_“Draal, we have to go,” Kanjigar tells him but there’s no room to argue as he grabs Draal’s arm. He has to shove Draal’s face away from the fleeting sight of Nomura to see Gunmar at the portal. _

_Only a silver barrier of Barbara Lake protects the surface world from the Skullcrusher._

_He wants to turn back, he wants to give his all to save Nomura and he’s about to turn around, forget about this whole damn war to just get to her. Draal wants to finally be with her, no matter any consequence but he hears her._

_At the top of her lungs, so far away, Nomura screeches at him, “Go! Get out of here Draal!”_

_He doesn’t want to leave her but Kanjigar gives him a horrified look, awaiting Draal’s decision as the soldiers are surrounding him. _

_Draal can’t save Nomura, not at this moment but one day…_

_His feet are moving before he’s aware of it, running towards the portal as Gunmar is chained down by golden lightning. Kanjigar is at his side as they charge their way to the gateway._

_One day, Draal promises, he will reunite with Nomura._

_They make it pass the golden light and there’s a blast of energy that destroys Killahead Bridge and the rest of Bular’s sanity._

_“I’m doing this for me,” he spats with an unhinged rage in his eyes, spiteful and intense. _

_Bular swings down the sword at Draal’s right arm. _

Draal wakes up gasping for air, his brain in battle mode as he reaches for the axe by his bed. Unfortunately he reaches with his right arm and there’s a long pause as he swishes his arm stub at the idle weapon.

In that break of tension, Draal’s able to calm himself, seeing how he’s just in his den with no danger in sight. He shags back into the mossy bark he sleeps in, his spikes blunted by the softness as he turns over to rub his face against it.

It’s been almost a month since the second battle of Killahead Bridge and Draal would occasionally wake up with the memories of that fight fresh in his head.

Guilt claws at his body, shame tightens at his throat, a sense of wrongness takes up the empty space where his right hand should be, but the strongest feeling is the longing for Nomura.

With the pieces of the bridge locked up by Vendel, it’s a unanimous decision to never open the gateway. Yet Barbara and Jim Lake have been experimenting with the Fetch to rescue Claire’s brother from the Familiar Nursery.

A small part of him whines how it’s unfair that there’s no attempt to save Nomura but the real unfairness is that Draal has not told them his idea of saving her. It’s a huge risk because of the whole opening the gateway for Gunmar argument but also Draal has no idea how his family will react.

Nomura has attacked all of them at one point. She’s the one who kidnaped Jim which probably puts her on Barbara’s bad side. For Kanjigar, well, Draal knows his father’s opinion of changelings.

Still, there’s been no progress at all from his research. Blinky has grown suspicious of Draal’s frequency in the library, rereading the Lakes’ notes on tracking spells and whatnot.

Aaarrrgghh is the only one Draal has confined with about his crazy plan.

“Fetch small,” he reminds Draal when he’s back in the library.

“I know,” Draal groaned, flipping through another spell book.

“Start small,” Aaarrrgghh suggested.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He has studied the Fetch already so he knows how corresponding his position to somewhere in the Darklands is a crazy labyrinth. That’s been a main problem with locating the Familiar Nursery.

If that’s difficult, how will he find Nomura? He doesn’t know how to even perform a tracking spell to find someone in a different void of space.

“My son,” Kanjigar greets, entering the library. “The Lakes and the humans have not arrived yet, what are you doing with the Fetch?”

“Protecting it,” he shrugged, “and I got a little curious about the whole magic experiment stuff.”

“As am I but I think one magical object is enough for me,” Kanjigar had the amulet in his hand out of habit. Since the fall of Bular he’s been walking without armor more than usual which isn’t saying much.

Draal looked to the amulet and then to his father, “Father, as far as I recall, no other Trollhunter has taken a spell caster path. Why is that?”

The hunter sat beside his son, gazing over the spell book and the Fetch. “The oldest Trollhunters called all magic besides Merlin’s as dark. A bit ridiculous since the wizard is as dangerous as any other. Later on with the assistance of a Lady Lake descendant, it is just a division of specialty.”

“But the gemstones were an exception.”

Kanjigar flipped the amulet over and the back flipped open to reveal five empty lots and the gem of day walking.

“It became a growing arsenal for the Trollhunters and very helpful as well.” Kanjigar closed the back and pocketed the amulet, “Personally I don’t use much magic because of how it binds with destiny.”

Aaarrrgghh nodded, “Destiny is magic.”

“Huh, haven’t thought of it that way,” Draal said.

“Magic tests fate, imbuing the user or caster with a power they must learn to control or otherwise their destiny will be,” Kanjigar trailed off, rubbing his chin, “well even I do not know how to describe it. Vendel has tried to teach me arcana and its leylines but since I have magic as an armor and weapon and not as blood, it’s different for everyone, as is destiny.”

Draal pushed the spell book away, “This is really confusing.”

“Magic priced,” Aaarrrgghh lectured, “Start small.”

He turned his attention back to the Fetch. It’s not like he or Nomura could squeeze through it so maybe he does need a smaller solution.

But whatever could that be?

He just wants to see Nomura again.

Jim got nominated for Spring Fling King.

How did that happen?

Somewhere between discovering his troll and magic bloodline and defeating an evil troll prince, Jim was apparently known to end Steve’s locker shoving days (more or less), fight with the principal, and be a fantastic Romeo. He does not know how that qualifies into being nominated at all.

But Toby and Claire talked him into the idea, how it’ll be a fun competition with no danger and how he deserves a little normalcy.

Sure, Jim can use a break from magical shenanigans.

But first there’s one last magical risk he needs to do.

He made a promise to Claire and he wants to do this, not just for her but to prove that it’s possible to take down Gunmar’s kingdom. Defeating Bular at the bridge was a big step in stopping the Gumm-gumms but Jim would like it if there were less attempted murders.

Now targeting the Familiar Nursery is a change of pace. They’re saving Enrique from a fate of dormancy.

After so many trials and errors, he and his mom finally think they finalized combining their tracking spell with Not-Enrique’s familiar spying trick. The hardest part was actually convincing the changeling to help them since he was the key factor on rescuing Enrique.

When they initially told him about the rescue mission Not-Enrique laughed at them and later yelled at them for being insane. If they succeed on saving the baby, the changeling’s connection to his community is effectively severed.

Not-Enrique was reasonably paranoid since the bridge fight, Strickler too from what Mom said. Other changelings might have gained knowledge about the treason but if Not-Enrique’s familiar is gone then that news will easily reach Gunmar or other enemies in the Darklands.

He was scared for his life.

Claire was the one to talk it over with him. It was always a begrudging relationship between the two ever since she learned about changelings. Yet over the weeks, each bribe for information turned into just hanging out with the changeling.

He was naturally curious at the stuff humans do and Claire apparently learned curses in changeling tongue. That said, Draal has taught them trollish swears too.

In the end telling Not-Enrique that he would be safe in Trollmarket or with any of them for protection was the honest answer.

Not-Enrique helped out Jim when he was kidnapped and Jim feels kind of in debt to him.

So the changeling agreed with a ‘fuck it why not’ attitude and they’ve been working together ever since.

Blinky and Barbara lead the way to the library section they essentially turned into their lab and workshop.

“Alright,” Barbara set the Fetch in the middle of the table, “attempt number eleven!”

The historian passed over a small mirror, customized to fit snug within the Fetch. Jim took his place on the other side of the Fetch and held onto it with his mom.

“So,” Not-Enrique hopped on top of the table, “we sure that this won’t explode like last time?”

“I believe it was attempt eight where it went boom,” Toby said.

“And on the last attempt, that’s when you said your tongue was both freezing and on fire,” Claire said.

The changeling rolled his eyes, “Whatever. Doc, what makes you positive this time around?”

“A fortified mirror for one, but with some convincing Vendel allowed us this,” she nods over to Kanjigar who presented a stone piece.

The Trollhunter set the piece on the side of the Fetch opposite of the changeling, “A single piece of Killahead Bridge, the gateway to the Darklands."

Barbara took a deep breath and Jim copied her. With one last glance around everyone in the room, she told Not-Enrique to begin.

The changeling held onto his side of the Fetch and leaned down to soak the entire mirror with his saliva. Once the spit sank into the mirror with a white swirl of fog, the Lakes began their spell.

Through the Fetch, Jim concentrated on what he knows about the tracking magic and summoning magic. He just had to imagine casting a line down into the unknown and trust the magic to find what he was looking for with Not-Enrique’s direction.

As the swirl of smoke cleared, the mirror showed baby Enrique. Like on previous attempts whenever they got this far, Jim felt that line go taut and catch something.

“Okay, that’s new,” Toby said in awe.

Right when Jim felt the line tugging at his being, the Fetch and the bridge piece glowed silver. The image of Enrique started to ripple like water and the mirror started vibrating. Then for the first time, Enrique noticed them. His giggles filled the room as he made grabby hands at them, his eyes meeting with Jim’s.

“What’s going on?” Draal asked as next to him, Claire looked like she was beginning to hyperventilate as she squeezed Toby’s hand.

Jim’s own breathing slowed and the steady beat of his heart was pulsing in his heads. One look at his mom told him that she was having a similar experience.

In their previous trials, Barbara would be the one to touch the surface of the mirror and see if they could breach it and grab Enrique. Just as she was about to do so, Jim stopped her.

“Mom, wait,” Jim tried to blink away the ache in his eyes, “I think Not-Enrique should be the one.”

A curious look was in her eyes, as if the variable never occurred to her. Both of them turned to the changeling in question and he just looked stiff and squint his eyes at his familiar.

Not-Enrique moved closer, placing his hands over the rippling surface. They all watched as his hands dipped in, catching Enrique’s hands and the changeling pulled. At the same time, Jim pulls the taut line through his magic.

The moment the human baby was pulled out of the mirror, the ripple effect returned into smoke and suddenly the entire mirror installment crumbled to dust. The silver light faded as the Lakes let go of the Fetch and panted out in exhaustion.

That odd line feeling in his gut is gone as he watches Not-Enrique carefully cradle his giggling counterpart.

“Enrique!” Claire gasps and rushes over to them, “You did it! You got him back!” The changeling gently handed over her brother and Claire presses their foreheads together, crying tears of joy. “Thank you, all of you. Thank you so much.”

“No problem Sis,” Not-Enrique he said quietly but instantly tried to backtrack, “I mean, Claire.” He faced away from her, rubbing his arm, “I know I’m officially no longer your brother or your problem.”

Claire effectively shut him up by bring him into her hug.

Eventually she hugged and thanks Jim too and while he’s so happy for her, proud that he and his mom were able to save someone from the Darklands, there’s an unsettled feeling in him.

Not-Enrique told them beforehand about how without a familiar in the Darklands, he lost his ability to shift. He gave up his human form and life for Claire and Enrique, that’s his permanent choice. He assure them how he prefers his changeling form but Jim can see now how sad Not-Enrique is finally realizing that he could never spend time with his familiar’s parents.

Jim can’t imagine himself in this scenario but at the same time he can.

What if there’s a day where they rescue the real James Sturges and sever Jim’s connection to his human form. Even so, there’s no guarantee of that happening since Jim is such an enigma.

Already he’s still has struggles with shifting. The first time he shifted by his own magic, he asked the Heartstone spear to give him a push, to feel the initiative of shifting. The thought about the spell Change Self was also in his mind. He’s able to do it without a gaggle-tack but sometimes when he’s too emotionally unstable he would revert back to his troll form.

He’s still trying to get used to this all, accept it and all that jazz but if Jim was given a choice, he would choose being human over being a troll.

Permanently.

It has been six years since his awakening.

The world has certainly changed when his body weakened to the point of being a part of a ruin’s rubble. The new lands and society of trolls and mankind is very different from the one in his memories.

It’s almost peaceful and beautiful.

Once again, Angor Rot longs for his soul so he could actually feel that serenity.

He wants his soul back to feel something other than vindictive bloodlust as he’s sent out to kill his kind, humans, and other magical creatures.

He craves for his soul back to feel something other than this numb empty weight in his coldness.

His body has been molded into a weapon, one where on every hunt he puts on a mask of bloodlust to feel _something_, anything at all.

Divided from his soul, he can barely feel his emotions sealed away. They’re so far away from him as he tries to catch the tailwinds of them whenever he thinks they would be powerful. The only emotions he has feeling is constant desperation and feral rage.

In his years of servitude, a few masters have commanded Angor to _pretend_ to have feelings. Through those glimpses of emotions, it was the most the troll assassin has ever felt since losing everything. He still craves for his soul but the mask of anger has rooted in the emptiness of his soul.

If he pretends to enjoy the thrill, the dangerous hunt that has become the cycle of life, he could have a semblance of his old life. Yet that’s a farce, no longer he is a protector.

He traded his soul for power with the intention of saving his kin but realized far too late in how he asked for too much and was manipulated to be a weapon.

His soul trapped in the Inferna Copula, always worn by a merciless master.

This current master is as productive as ever, making them travel across the world. Angor Rot is ordered to kill, to steal, to torture, and above all to never question his master’s decisions.

Angor Rot cannot feel, every emotion of his is a lie and a mockery to his old self. But if he could truly feel, he imagines that his murderous thoughts on his current master are justified.

He’s familiar with the magic of changelings, an echo of his own source of damnation. They both share a link to that pale magic but unlike Angor, the changeling embraces the cruelty and inhumanity. Changing skins and masks are the specialty that disgusts and baffles Angor. It’s all a soulless act by someone who rejects the morality and mortality they take granted of.

As soulless as the troll is, Angor longs for his shame to consume him after each cruel command.

Longing, that’s all he can do.

It has been six long years since the day James Sturges claimed his ring.

James then tells him that they’re heading to Arcadia, California. That he’s heading home.

Angor wordlessly follows and continues to attempt to swirl up any speck of emotion from his trapped soul. He doesn’t know if it’s real or false hope but Angor likes to pretend that he still has emotions, no matter how small.

They travel to the den of changelings, vastly more advance than the ones of South Asia and Europe. Like before, all are subordinates to this Director.

One changeling, a polymorph by the smell of it, has gilded platitudes falling from his mouth the moment the director walk briskly in.

“Director, I’ve followed all of your requests, your lab and office are prepared, and the traitor is stationed to your exact accords,” the polymorph said, leading them to the interrogation chambers.

Along the way, passing agents froze at the sight of their director and the fabled troll assassin. Everyone except the polymorph had a blank mask on that did nothing to cover up their terror as they walked by.

It’s almost pathetic yet from the way their leader is walking with an air of lightness, he’s enjoying it all.

Angor doesn’t shed any thought on any of the agents, they don’t matter to him. If anything he’s just James’ deadly shadow.

“Of course you did, any other way is disobeying my orders,” James Sturges commented easily, the smallest of cruel smiles on his face.

The polymorph fell out of step briefly and then was right at the director’s side. He laughed nervously, “Ha, yes, that’s right.”

James patted the other changeling’s shoulders, “Now don’t be so tense, Ottoman. You’ve done a swell job in my absence. Bular is no longer breathing down our necks and more importantly, you appended my figurehead for me.”

“Anything for you, Director Strange,” Ottoman grinned proudly.

If Angor Rot felt like it, he would roll his eyes. What a horrible choice of words.

James leaned far too close to the other’s face, his smile warping into a deranged grin, “Anything? That is very bold of you. Go wait in my lab. I’m so glad you volunteered to indulge in my latest research.”

The director already pushed his terrorized subordinate away, shooing him off as James walked his own way to the traitor. 

Oh great, another experiment of Doctor James Sturges. Angor wonders how quick and painful it’ll be this time. On second thought, he’s likely planning a redo what he did with the last polymorph. In that case it’ll be slow agony.

Right now, all of James’ attention is on the changeling chained to the floor. It’s a mix of traditional and modern torture of depriving the victim of nutrients and binding him down in a closed environment.

This changeling in particular has iron shackles around his wrists and ankles. His wings are anchored down by a metal cage, stiff and uncomfortable. All in all, this troll looks miserable and terrified when James stands over him.

“Stricklander, I was always impressed by your work with the British royal family. From that point on I knew that the Arcadia division was in good hands,” James praised with his natural charm. The light cheerful tone drops immediately, “So imagine my surprise when I heard you’re dating my ex-wife.”

The moment this lady was mentioned, Stricklander forgone his stone terror and glared at the director. “Who are you really? A man who abandoned his family and suddenly reappeared as what, as a _director_ of all things, taking over my position here just to be a petty estrange lover?”

James scoffed with a laugh, “Ha, petty lover? Your position? Sure, I may not be the one to give you the leadership responsibilities but who do you think assigned you to be located here?”

As this mental chess match continues, Angor is ignored and left to understand this all. This has to be the most he has ever learned about his master. Never has this man ever talked about familial relationships, at least not out loud or near Angor.

If James used his influences to put this Stricklander into an area to keep watch over this ex of his, she must be of some importance. Although Angor finds that hard to believe, no one is important to this man.

Stricklander’s icy stare became fire, “This is about Jim isn’t it? You knew about both sides of him and you left them!”

With the rising anger, the prisoner rose up despite the straining weight on his wings and the poor state of his body.

James had a face of indifference and dryly said, “Wow you really taken up the role of father figure.” His neutrality shifted into curiosity, “And you know exactly what that boy is? How dangerous and uncontrollable he will one day be?”

“Jim is not an agent or an asset,” Stricklander growled.

“He’s not your son either,” James whispered.

Before the prisoner could spit out more fouls, Angor spoke up, “You’re not qualified as a father at all.” Both changelings turned to the assassin and he’ll enjoy the brief flicker of panic in James’ stoicism. “At least, that’s what I’ve come to learn.”

“That’s,” Stricklander stuttered, backing away with his chains clanging, “that is the killer of the Trollhunters.”

“Yes indeed,” James regained his charming smile and waved over to Angor. “This is what a loyal asset looks like, Stricklander, stronger than Bular but with the obedience of a goblin.” He snarled loudly at that comment. “Shush you.”

“You have the Inferna Copula,” Stricklander stated, still in a horrified daze.

“It’s a lovely ring,” he said, admiring the cursed jewelry much to Angor’s annoyance.

The changeling continued listing, “You have the ring, Angor Rot, command over our people, Bular’s gone, and then there’s Barbara and Jim and their mag-“

James quickly punched him but Angor heard the word. He remained passive as James glanced back at him, seeing what damage has been done.

“Angor,” James said casually as he shifted into his troll form with a dark blue light, clenching up his stony fists, “wait outside.”

Like any other command, Angor Rot must follow it.

From the beginning of this relationship, Angor Rot has schemed many times on how to get out of James’ control. Threatening close partners or people was always a good strategy but at the time, James never gave away that kind of information. Stricklander apparently knows a great deal about this family though.

But it’s all different now with this magical implication.

Angor shadowed James through his six year expedition for magical objects and people and more. None of its horrors has strayed James away but to see him now panicking over a secret son, this intrigues the assassin.

All of this time traveling the world, Angor should have realized James Sturges was running away from something.

Now what can Angor Rot do with this new information? One thing for sure, he wants more of it.

By the time James leaves the room, his knuckles are noticeably bruised. He appears sore and tired too, something Angor wishes to be the cause of but he’ll take what he can get.

James spits out a tooth, “Dispose of him.”

He walks off to his office and Angor can guess he’s excited to perform his own horror show all over again but with Ottoman. The assassin doesn’t waste a moment to duck inside the room and see the changeling in a poorer condition than originally.

He’s still breathing. Good.

Quickly, Angor takes out small ingredients from his hip pouches and grinds up a small powder in his hands. Stricklander flinches when Angor kneels down to press the salve onto tender stone skin. As the changeling hisses, Angor mutters the healing incantation. It’s a small one but it might be enough to bargain.

“James told me to dispose of you,” Angor said and while his tone was posed calmly, Stricklander paled in horror, coughing up dust from internal cracks in his throat. “Is there anywhere I can drop you off at?”

Stricklander stares at him for a while. There’s disbelief and pain as he looks at the hands tending to his wounds and broken body.

Finally he says, “I don’t trust you.”

That’s smart, Angor admits, but it’s not what he wanted. He ends the spell and exits the room, leaving Strickler to wallow in misery and pain. Back in the hallway, it’s far easier to use his intimidation on a hapless agent for information of this Jim and Barbara.


	2. Change Self

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No mud slinging here, just the normal amount of crises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guess who's here early cause I'm inpatient

Kanjigar knows his destiny is tied to Gunmar.

Correction, it is the Trollhunter’s destiny and Kanjigar is well aware there’s a possibility it may not be him in the armor when the time comes.

It’s a scary realization, one that lingered in his head when he ventured into the Darklands for his son. He had no amulet or mantle. He was just a father trying to protect his son.

The Trollhunter ignored destiny for his kin.

If there’s a consequence for that, Kanjigar will do it all over to keep Draal alive.

As the weeks pass since the Second Battle of Killahead Bridge, Kanjigar senses the incoming tide of danger at the horizon. Whether it is paranoia, instinct, or magic, he just knows that he must be ready for anything.

The king of the Darklands was a being of malice back during Deya’s charge. Now when Kanjigar saw him slowly making his way to the portal, Kanjigar sees how age has not been kind to him.

With no raw arcana to feast on, Gunmar prioritized threatening Barbara Lake over stopping Kanjigar from rescuing his son.

They both delayed destiny.

Kanjigar has no idea what any of that could possibly mean or what fate has in store for everyone. All he knows that he must do whatever he can to stop Gunmar.

His talk with Draal the other day reminds him on how unpredictable magic is. How there are a price for using or abusing it. Kanjigar prefers the path of weapons but if needed, magic is a solution.

“The Triumbric Stones,” Kanjigar read from one of the oldest books in the library, “this is it.”

“Master Kanjigar, one tome of wise words does not promise a prophecy,” Blinky said, reading the passage with wariness. “Then again, Gunmar killed the author and the disciples to censor this.

Vendel motioned to them to give him the book, “This only means a fierce storm will brew, damage will be done until the moment where you change the tides. I have no doubt there will be pain, Kanjigar.”

“When has there not been pain and suffering in war?”

“Don’t get so melodramatic with me,” the elder troll warned.

“And I thought only teenagers had an emo or gothic phase,” Barbara commented from the phone. “Anyway, Kanjigar, a quest for three mysterious stones seems like something we could’ve been doing from the start.”

“Bular was in Arcadia, I wouldn’t let him be left unwatched. Now that he’s gone I can go-” He’s interrupted by Barbara’s sharp coughs of being offended so he hastily corrects, “I mean we, we can go search for the stones. We, as in I am not alone.”

“Thank you,” she said and then sighs, “My break is almost over, call me when you figured out the riddles.”

“They don’t rhyme, Lady Lake,” Blinky laughed.

“No wonder they were lost,” she said last as the call ended.

Vendel pointed at the text about the first stone, “This one, you don’t think a meeting with a certain volcanic troll would be needed would it?”

Kanjigar shagged his shoulders, “If it’s necessary, it is possible, and I will do it.”

Suddenly there’s uproar from the market area, which says a lot since Blinky specifically set up the library away from the Barraza. Aaarrrgghh runs in, knocking into a bookcase and on top of his back is the little changeling that has been quite a handful as of late.

“What did you do now?” Kanjigar asks with his fraternal attitude, one frequently used on a young Draal.

“Why do you always assume I did something?” Not-Enrique rolled his eyes and crossed his arms and legs. Aaarrrgghh picked him up by the scruff and settled him on the table.

Blinky made sure to collect all of their research away from the changeling, “Because the last three bar fights involved you.”

“No bar fight,” Aaarrrgghh said, “Gnome steal but…”

“That Hag-Ella lady accused me of stealing her rags,” Not-Enrique growled, “I have better taste then whatever she collects. I can actual go to the surface and get better shit to eat even though I no longer have full immunity.”

“Wait I thought you don’t leave because you’re scared of the other changelings,” Blinky said, trying to understand.

“Yes that too but I’m still a changeling. I have some magical resistance to the sun but it doesn’t last long.” Not-Enrique picked up a book Blinky didn’t grab yet and flipped through it, “I had to learn that the hard way.”

“Interesting,” Blinky muttered and his left hands were writing that down in a notebook.

The changeling scoffed loudly and with a lot of spit, “You all are clueless about changeling! I can’t believe this. I’m better off staying in Sis’ basement.”

“That does not sound fulfilling,” Vendel advised.

“It sure sounds better than being called impure, fake, thief, or two-faced. Although that last one really is accurate but the point is,” Not-Enrique marched over to point a tiny finger at Kanjigar, “your Trollmarket may be a safe haven for trolls but apparently there are exceptions.”

“I cannot control everyone else’s opinions but I’ll talk to Badgwella. Trollmarket knows that you helped us save Jim at the bridge so they know that you made sacrifices to be here and deserve it as well.”

Not-Enrique lowers his hand but he’s still scowling, “Not all. Some just see it as me sticking with another changeling with more privilege or are just waiting for me to be a double crosser. If I have to fight Gunmar to prove my loyalty to trolls who obviously hate me, then I’m not doing it. I ain’t wasting my life to prove them wrong.”

He jumped off the table, walking away.

Kanjigar sighed, “You won’t have to. I’ll just remind them again that you’re on our side.”

That got the changeling to stop but he gave the Trollhunter a harsh frown, “The second bar fight, I started it only because they accused Jim on being a spy.”

With that, Not-Enrique walked out.

The Elder troll hummed, “I believe Trollmarket is still needs some improvements.”

“Vendel, ugh,” Kanjigar rubbed his eyes, “that might be an understatement. I’m a warrior and I know how to fight evil trolls but diplomacy is nothing like sword fighting.”

“Winning is easy, governing is harder. You are Kanjigar the Courageous, our Trollhunter,” Vendel stated, “It is your duty to answer every call and to protect all from evil.”

“I know that,” the Trollhunter said.

He already made promises of peace for the Lakes and that was broken the moment Bular tracked them down. Then there’s the arrangement with the extraterrestrial royals from years ago and so far it has been kept safe. But never has there been a known changeling ally before or at least never mentioned.

Kanjigar knows he’s guilty of saying slurs and keeping a wary eye on Not-Enrique and early on, Jim too. Then for that Strickler, the Trollhunter truly believes that whatever he’s doing, it’s for the Lakes but it doesn’t clear the doubts and suspensions.

There’s just so much tainted history and hearsay of changeling kind that Kanjigar has no idea on how to make Trollmarket safe for them.

“I’m the Trollhunter,” Kanjigar continued, standing straighter with a new vigor in his voice, “I answer every call, even when they are not spoken.” The Elder nodded proudly, seeing where he’s leading with. “Gunmar may not be here but the changelings are. They’re not mindless Gumm-gumms but they have suffered different pains in Gunmar’s hands. I protect all from evil.”

“That is a momentous decision, Master Kanjigar,” Blinky said. “How are you going help them?”

Kanjigar blinked, the tension in his shoulders loosening, “Huh, I’ll go to Barbara for guidance.”

“That’s the wisest thing you have ever said,” Vendel smiled.

Jim stared at his hands, human and thin with short nails and callouses from training.

This was the body he has been growing in for years. It’s what he knows best and what’s the most comfortable for him. That’s why it is so easy for him to shift back into this skin. He knows it more than his troll features.

Without the gaggle-tack ring, Jim doesn’t voluntary go back to his troll from. There was just never a reason to.

Jim likes his human body. It’s who he is.

He’s human and yet whenever he begins to feel… less human, he just shifts instinctively into his troll body. It’s so frustrating how it is out of his control!

Not-Enrique told him before that reverting into their trollish side is just a gut feeling or from just pure emotions. It can be leaked through their eyes flashing or a full body shift. Jim doesn’t like either situation.

He tries to keep a lid on all of this but there’s just so much he could do as a high school student.

“Claire, I don’t think we need to go overboard for Spring Fling,” he said as they entered their history class.

“This is your nomination campaign,” Claire said seriously. “We need posters, you spreading the word about your kingliness, and talk to other kids here.”

“This is feeling more like a student presidential election,” Toby added in.

“No,” Claire said firmly with her lips pressed together in a tight unhappy smile, “This is Spring Fling, its way more competitive.”

The boys glanced at each other, not knowing how to deal with this. To say that Claire was surprised that she wasn’t nominated for queen is an understatement. Sure she played it off cool but then she started to be really determined to help Jim win.

Jim doesn’t know how to dial down her passion and while Toby is a little less wary, he’s in full support of Claire’s eagerness.

“Posters don’t seem necessary,” Jim said, “that’s what the daily challenges are for, right?”

“Yeah and today’s announcing your party theme,” Toby showed off his note page full of suggestions, “I say we go with a Gun Robot theme.”

“It has to be within the school’s budget,” Claire advised.

“I’ll think of something,” Jim said.

She casted him a doubtful raised brow and opened up her textbook, “You’ve said that all week.”

He was about to defend himself when the substitute teacher began today’s lesson. Jim silently sighs as yet again there’s a pit in his stomach wondering where Strickler is.

The boy is worried and frustrated and overall clueless on trusting the changeling. There were so many times where Jim reached out to him for help and the one time when it matters most, when he asked Strickler to free him from Bular’s rage, he told him that he couldn’t do that.

Jim really thought that Strickler cared for him. In the end the man did save him and Mom from the exploding bridge and Barbara later told Jim that it will take time to feel at ease with Strickler but that’s not what bothers Jim.

Bular and Gunmar called him Lake Spawn and from that point onward Strickler was scared of him.

He still doesn’t understand what that even means. Not-Enrique only gave out a boogeyman comparison and repeated that Jim is a one of a kind case.

Jim Lake, one side impure and the other side spawn.

He just wants to be human.

Lost in these thoughts, Jim continued throughout the day until it’s only a few minutes before he has to present some theme idea he doesn’t has because he spent all of this time being conflicted about who and what he is.

It just hurts to know that trolls, good or bad, judge and fear him over something he was born with. He should have control over his shifting but he still falters and panics and he had trusted Strickler to help him with this!

He thought Strickler would be here still but no, he left and he didn’t even say goodbye to him.

He thought that Strickler would at least care enough to say goodbye but no he left because he’s scare of Lake Spawns.

He should’ve known better.

After all, James left because of that reason.

Jim blinks furiously, realizing that he’s been curled up in a ball at the soccer field, the doors to the gymnasium right next to him. The vague memory of telling Claire about trolls is playing back as he looks over to the spot they sat at.

It takes Jim dragging his fingers down his face to be aware that he must have shifted into his troll form during his distress. Another thing that the he’s been pushing to the back of his mind is the thin blue tail that’s been growing for weeks. It wiggles with anxiety.

Well this is just great!

Shifting back is the smart decision here, he thinks. He can just adlib an idea once he’s up presenting or whatever.

As he mentally prepares himself, the previous thoughts still clutter up his mind, taking up time for him to focus on shifting back. Old advice tells him it’s about trusting his body but right now, with all this spawn and impure descriptions, he doesn’t like his body.

There’s shame and disgust and guilt about how he’s not proud of who he is.

More promptly, there’s that little curious thought in the back of his head about how he wants to be human again.

He wants to be just regular plain old Jim with no grand adventure that puts his life endangers. Isn’t that the source of all of his problems? Troll nature and Lake secrets, that’s what cause all of this.

Magic helped Enrique and Claire so it should help him on this shouldn’t it?

All he has to do is to think of the accurate spell that fits his needs.

Permanent Change Self.

That one little and new detail enters his head as he tries to shift and for the briefest of seconds, Jim thinks that it will work.

No, it doesn’t.

In fact it goes terribly wrong.

Instead of the blue light of his changeling magic, golden chaotic veins electrify on his troll skin and it’s all painful. Jim’s body contorts under the golden flare, under the wish that gets denied and punished thoroughly.

It feels like his cells are vibrating, like his magic is being rejected and this feedback of energy is too much for his own body. This is a form fitting cage, woven into his skin and rattling his bones and in his head he begs for this magic to _stop!_

Jim just wants to be human.

As the half troll collapses to the ground, shivering and twitching under this agony, these lines of judgement enter his head.

This is magic telling him no, there is no way out.

This is his body and it is only half of what he longs for.

This is who he is meant to be and Jim cannot interfere.

After all,_ destiny is a gift and bloodline is a part of it. _

“Stop, please,” he begs to this magic, “I just want to be me again!”

Deep down, he knows that’s not the response whatever this thing wants.

Jim doesn’t know how or why or when but the golden bindings release him, leaving him panting and sore and utterly scared of what just happened.

Instincts tells him to find his friends, to get comfort and figure out this weird shit but save that for later. Jim is freaking out.

In the midst of trying to stand up, he uses the wall as support. That wall just so happens to be the door to the gymnasium and it opens under his unbalanced weight.

The bleachers are filled with students and at the mic are Claire and Toby, assumingly stalling for him, along with Coach Lawrence, Principal Rivera, and the other court nominees.

For his opponents, Steve is in Hawaiian attire and Eli’s in thrift shop clothes.

For the girls, Mary is dressed for the MET gala and Shannon is in Wild West, cowgirl style and ready for the Old Town Road.

The last queen candidate is rumored as a wildcard cause of her sudden popularity on kicking Steve down at a taco truck last week. Aja Tarron, a new student along with her brother, and currently with no extravagant theme as she’s just in regular clothes.

Everyone stares at Jim, still in his blue troll form.

Normally, Jim would think _‘oh shit’_ but he’s just so damn tired and drained of everything right now.

He’s about to just walk away, back up outside and hope everyone will forget this until Eli of all people recovers from surprise.

“Wow Jim, you’re going with a monster mash theme?”

Eli’s earnest curiosity is a sight to behold and Jim does what Not-Enrique taught him. Lie his ass off.

With charisma that must be from his changeling of a dad, Jim confidently strides over to the center of the gym, “That’s right, my theme is Halloween, everybody! Why only have one day where we dress up to be the monster that we are?”

Like a natural twenty dice roll, the crowd cheers.

Huh, so this is what fake confidence feels like. It’s not bad.

But that crushing anxiety is hissed under his winning smile to his best friends, “I trolled out and shifting didn’t work. Help please?”

“Oh boy Jimbo, you really waited for the last second to put on the horn prosthetics,” Toby said loudly, a little unnecessary over the roaring audience but Steve is nearby and glaring at them.

“Principal Rivera, it appears we have our winner for today,” Claire smiles gracefully, beginning to pull Jim to the exit, “I think he needs help getting all this body paint off.”

Jim does his best princess wave and once the three friends leave the room to the empty hallway, Jim exhales to the point where he’s gripping his knees and wheezing.

“Jim, what the hell happened?” Toby rubs his back in soothing patterns and the troll whines just fall out of him.

“I don’t know!” His friends lead him away to a fortunately scarce classroom for him to freely freak out in privacy. Jim sinks to the floor, curling into himself, “I just lost it and I tried shifting but my thoughts were jumbled up just like when the Grit-Chaka broke and I didn’t feel in control of my body.”

He stares at his hands, the rough texture isn’t comforting and the talons are an odd weight. His tail still freaks him out.

“You’re okay now Jim,” Claire’s at his side, an arm over his shoulders as Toby takes the space on his other side. “Would getting another magic ring help?”

“No, the shifting magic isn’t the problem. It’s me, I couldn’t, I tried to…” Jim’s mouth felt too dry as he admitted quietly, “I wanted to change myself to be something I obviously am not.”

Toby takes his hands and his are just so smaller and softer and Jim curls their fingers together. “Dude, breathe with me,” his eases Jim to follow with the calming exercise and Toby asked, “What did you try to do?”

Jim can’t make himself say it, admit that he wanted to permanently be human. Instead he says, “I tried to change the spell, make me more human and push down anything trollish. It didn’t like that. It couldn’t do what I asked for so it just… it just hurts all over.”

He doesn’t want to try again but he knows that it’s a bit necessary. There’s too much risk if he wanders around the school in his ‘costume’.

Shifting this time is just like any other time before, still feeling a little unsatisfied but at least it doesn’t hurt him. It is still a reminder that this is not his real skin.

It feels more surreal and odd when Toby points out, “When did your magic flash become gold?”

Draal gets to the Lake’s house by sundown, a little risky but he didn’t want prying ears for this particular request.

It’s not that he wants to keep this as a secret it’s the fact that well, this has probably never been done before and he trusts only Barbara Lake for this. She’s literally the one human that can do the impossible.

He spares a thought to debate if he should knock on the back door for politeness but remembers that he and his father dug a tunnel into the basement.

“Lady Barbara?” Draal calls as he shuts the basement door behind him.

“Draal?” She’s lying on the living room couch with a book in her lap, “Hi is everything alright? You’re not carrying your axe wait,” Barbara gestures over for him to join her at the couch, “you brought spell books.”

“I want to save Nomura,” he said directly, wasting no more time and opening the books he studied, “and I know it’s a dangerous plan and I don’t have an actual plan but I need to start somewhere, no matter how small.”

Barbara carefully reads the bookmarked sections. “If we splice the spying spell like last time but with this,” her muttering got quiet, lost in thought about if his theory could work. She glances up with lips tightly pressed, “It is a risky plan, no doubt about it but right now it’s very one sided. I mean, you’re asking me to operate a call to the Darklands for you.”

“It’s the best idea I got right after convincing my father to open up the bridge to save my ex-courtship.”

She frowns, “She’s not just your ex, Draal. You’re telling me you want to save someone who hurt Jim, Claire, Toby, Kanjigar, and yourself.”

“I know,” he sighs, “but she saved me in the end. Nomura always leaves without a trace, thinking how we’ll always be divided but this time I ran off. She told me to leave her behind and I did and I hate that I did.”

Draal doesn’t know if anything he says will convince her. Sure the both of them became intimately attached to devious changelings who turned to their side at the last minute but Nomura got trapped in the Darklands while Strickler left for unfinished business.

“I just want to finally be with her,” Draal finishes with a heavy feeling in his chest.

There are always obstacles between their happiness, either war or fears. One particular fear he’s hesitant on facing is telling his father that he loves Nomura.

Barbara said, “I saw her fight Bular for you.” Her expression was soft, understanding and sympathetic, “She made her decision far too late and is suffering from it. Why do you think it took her so long to rebel against Gunmar?”

He takes his time thinking, “It’s because we’re both scared that there’s actually no chance of us being together.” Draal wants to pin all the blame on the Gumm-gumm king but he has to admit the other big reason. “Father and other trolls might not accept us.”

There’s the tiniest of disapproving head shakes from Lady Lake that just sends Draal into memory lane of every scolding lesson from Kanjigar or Vendel.

“Kanjigar, well, I know that he’s improved for a lack of better words but for the rest of Trollmarket, Not-Enrique is not the best ambassador for changelings.”

“He’s real good at starting fights and parties, all in one day.”

She scoffs at that and returns her focus on the books, holding one to hide her face, “What do you actually plan with this? It’s all for Nomura? Like, it’s not an intel gathering recon mission or another?”

“It’s all to make sure she’s okay.”

Her eyes peeped over the hardcover. Blue iris were a signature trait of the Lake bloodline, yes there were other colors like Master Lake’s brown eyes but blue were the most common from the stories. Each set of eyes held an air of wisdom or connection Draal couldn’t describe for the life of him.

All he knows is that there’s genuine determination and care from just one flicker of eye movement as Barbara looks at him and his anxious frown and weary eyes and absent arm.

“The spell won’t work,” she says bluntly, “you’re missing a conduit with a strong sentimental value from Nomura. We’re basically making a magic phone call with no radio tower to establish a connection.”

“So I can’t use a bridge piece to help?”

Shaking her head, Barbara sets down the book on his lap, pointing at certain parts, “No, its purpose was to strengthen the Fetch and turn it from a window into uh, an open window I guess, analogies whatever.” She physically waved off that train of thought and continued, “What we need is a conduit that can anchor with Nomura through emotional value to get an actual chance of reaching her.”

For all the brainstorming Draal did, he’s still in square one but it is progress. He’s about to inquire more about this magic phone call thing when a cry outside alarms the both of them.

Absolute dread washes over them as they recognize it as the infamous incantation of the amulet of Daylight.

He and Barbara are out of the door when Jim is thumping down the staircase in a hurry but they all stand frozen at the doorstep.

On the street is Kanjigar the Courageous, sword ready but doesn’t make a move towards his opponent because of this tense situation.

Right at the sidewalk in front of the house is a troll only known in horror stories to young whelps like Draal.

Angor Rot, the hunter of Trollhunters, watches the three of them, ignoring the heated glare from his favorite type of victim. At his feet is the crumbled form of Strickler.

The troll assassin wordless observes the two humans who Draal instinctively shields from view but that doesn’t stop the intense, almost deadly, stare when Angor Rot studies Jim.

At once, Kanjigar takes a step to attack but by his second step, Angor sinks into a purple puddle of shadows with use of his staff.

It’s a blur of everyone talking at once, paranoid over the threatening troll and the injured changeling. Barbara guides Kanjigar and Draal to carefully lift Strickler to carry him inside.

Strickler groans and wheezes at the slightest of movement but with great effort he opens his eyes to Barbara and in the most comforting tone despite all the pain he’s in, he said, “I promised I’d come back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kanjigar knows enough about magic to not mess with it. As for Trollhunter duties, I kind of imagine it has a lot of political influence because of Tribunal stuff that I barely remember. Either way, Kanjigar is doing his best for Not-Enrique. 
> 
> And then we see Jim trying to mess with magic and ouch. So like, haha um I for one am greatly amused everything I got for the Spring Fling because not only did Jim walk out as a troll but I decided to write in Aja and Krel into the story! 
> 
> I was REALLY impatient and I love 3Below and now I'm stitching in their arcs. Let's see how I'll pull that off!
> 
> Lastly, yep, Draal's plan is a magic phone call. Honestly, I don't know why this was the plan it just happened and I'm making it work out for Nomura's sake at least. Oh man, I really love this ship like there wasn't much in canon so I'm putting it all in this story as much as I can. 
> 
> Also, Strickler finally goes to a doctor!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. To Piece Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All roaming fees are pushed aside as important talks go on

There are certain things in Kanjigar’s life that he will never speak out loud.

But life also just has to punch those secrets out of him too.

He wished for Draal to never become the next Trollhunter and that care turned into an insult spat in his son’s face.

He tells himself that the old social stigma on changelings were justified but that logic is deemed as flawed once Kanjigar confronted Trollmarket citizens’ view on Jim and Not-Enrique.

And now, seeing the one troll in history that turns the Trollhunter in a prey, while words fail him, Kanjigar’s face is locked in horror at the mere sight of Angor Rot.

The amulet was one second behind his cry of the incantation, pulsing with his fears and anxiety of Angor Rot at the Lakes’ house. He was absolutely prepared to attack and even more so when he heard the assassin murmured something seconds before the door opens.

“The child of magic, he exists.”

Angor Rot’s quiet voice stunned the Trollhunter. While the rest of the troll is expressionless, that inflection of his voice holds a long hunger over a prize.

But he’s gone before Kanjigar could land a hit, now the rest of them are left to bring an injured Strickler inside as Barbara uses her medical expertise.

From the descriptions Barbara mutters out loud, Strickler is in poor condition. Only her critical eye sees signs of malnourishment while Kanjigar focuses on the physical wounds. There’s bruising on his limps and torso and his wings were bent, crooked, and deadweight.

They got the changeling to lie on the couch, positioning him carefully to let his wings drape off to the floor.

“Jim, go get the jar of herpes and the pouch of white stones from my office,” Barbara ordered, easing pillows under Strickler’s back and trying to maneuver the wings to a better alignment. 

The boy rushes off and Kanjigar sees how fearful and worried the youngling is. Jim looks exactly like Draal the first time when Kanjigar came back home from a nasty battle.

Kanjigar diminishes the armor back into the amulet as he moves a small table to level Strickler’s wings, “Shouldn’t we move him to a bed?”

“Later, right now,” Barbara said, checking Strickler’s eyes and gently pressing her fingers around the bruises. “I have to immediately heal any internal damage.”

“Um changelings don’t bleed like humans,” Draal said. “If he was in his human form he would but here there would be external signs of anything crushed inside for trolls.”

Natural born troll are stones to the core but from the small amount of changeling studies from over the ages, changelings can be fully either in the respective form. Although eventually trolls found out that disguised changeling blood smells different than human blood.

Kanjigar thinks back to the night he tracked down Jim, a changeling that’s capable of bleeding like a human. At the time, Kanjigar didn’t know this strange biology lesson and it was also a strange night regardless. Blinky just summed it up to Jim’s troll form having human aspects while his human form is slowly developing troll aspects. Barbara joked how this was just a simple matter of water displacement, whatever that means.

“Angor Rot healed little,” Strickler choked out. Now in a well light room, Kanjigar can see lacerations around his throat.

That made no sense but the affirming nod from Barbara forces Kanjigar to rethink this whole thing.

Angor Rot, the proclaimed troll assassin, champion of the Pale Lady and once former hero of a troll civilization located in India. He felled many Trollhunters but was strangely absent throughout Deya’s time. Most guessed Gunmar went after him for being a rival and so there were Gumm-gumm raids in Angor’s territories.

But now the living reaper is here and is ensnaring Kanjigar’s family into something that must be sinister.

Jim returned with the medical supplies, some yellow and green plant and moonstones. Also in his panic, the boy must have subconsciously shifted into his troll skin. His ears were folded high in alarm at the sight of Strickler and he chewed on his lip with worry. His newly developed tail twitches occasionally.

Doctor Barbara got to work, crushing the herbs over Strickler’s forehead with a healing incantation muttered. She guided Jim into placing a moonstone over the larger bruises on the abdomen and the inflated areas glowed white with the stone.

“The outer layer of stone may have been healed but there are still cracks inside that haven’t closed,” Barbara explained and gazed over to the wings, “I don’t have much experience with wings but the bone equivalent doesn’t look good.”

“Is he able to fly?” Jim asked.

Strickler jerks one wing to flick and through gritted teeth he assured, “In time.”

“Walt you shouldn’t be moving,” Barbara held stones to his neck, “or talking for the matter.”

Despite the doctor trying to keep Strickler lying down, the changeling weakly raised a hand to hold her cheek, “Barbara, Kanjigar, you have to know. James Sturges is the director of the Janus Order and he controls Angor Rot.”

That sentence is a literal puzzle for Lady Lake and the Trollhunter to piece together.

“He’s the director of what?” Barbara exclaims.

“What do you mean controls Angor Rot?” Kanjigar barks.

Meanwhile the sons were frozen. Kanjigar knows that Draal must be dreading the old lore of the assassin but Jim’s terror is cleared up.

The half changeling’s voice was the void of emotion but filled with absolute certainty, “My birth father is that Otto guy’s boss and in charge of that troll that brought you here.”

Strickler further breaks the bad news with more details, “He’s the leader of all the changelings in Arcadia.”

“He took your job,” Draal said.

“No, apparently he’s on a higher level I never knew about,” Strickler sighed, taking deep breaths as the injuries around his throat are healed promptly. The moonstone loses the glow and Barbara moves it over to another wound. “For all the gloats he made, I can only assume he’s claimed ownership on Angor Rot to spearhead some sort of coup against Bular.”

“But now that he’s gone, there’s no more distractions from fighting me,” Kanjigar gravely said.

It looked like everyone had more questions but all stopped at Barbara’s steady and chilling tone, “James is back in town.”

The room felt cold and the last time that happened was when Kanjigar called Jim impure that first night from long ago.

There’s that tense look on Barbara’s face that he knows is just her hyper focus on all this new information about her ex-husband. Kanjigar is really proud of her murderous thinking face.

Strickler apparently didn’t have the same thought as he tried to warn her, “Barbara no.”

“All this time and we didn’t know where you went, that we should just have faith in you but,” her voice shook as venom was verbal and her eyes were fierce, “he did this to you?”

The changeling sighed and with regained strength, sat up properly with his wings carefully guided over the couch pillows. “Ever since the play, I was imprisoned in the Janus Order, the headquarters of the Arcadian changelings. It was only now when Sturges arrived with Angor Rot to have a chat with me.”

Jim moved over to sit next to him and Barbara copied with the other side. The boy continued to move the moonstones to wing joints. “Yeah, this looks like a real nice chat between the ex and the new boyfriend. Also who exactly is Angor Rot?”

“The troll earlier is known for killing Trollhunters,” Kanjigar answered, taking a seat as he recalls the lore. “He’s ruthless and vindictive on that task and hasn’t been heard from in years until now.” From the horrified faces in the room, Kanjigar feels his resolve shaken as the reality of this threat eats him up. Clinging for any kind of hope, he asks again, “Strickler, what do you mean that Sturges controls him?”

“In the restrictive archives of the Order, we recovered the only tome that survived the ruins of Angor Rot’s home,” Strickler said with great strain, not from the injuries but from the knowledge. “It documents how he struck a deal with the eldritch queen for immense power and immortality. All of it at the cost of his soul trapped in a ring, the Inferna Copula. James Sturges has it and can control the Trollhunter assassin.”

Besides Kanjigar, his son muttered, “Magic is priced.”

“Magic is the problem and the solution, the cause and effect, the byproduct of leylines, the equilibrium of destiny,” Barbara listed off, annoyed and tended to the cuts on Strickler’s face, “James came back prepared and ready.”

“But his target is not just the Trollhunter,” Strickler said, holding Barbara’s hand and Jim’s shoulder, “He believes you two are dangerous.”

“Um yeah,” Jim said, also annoyed and bitter, “we’ve been knew.”

“You were there at the bridge too weren’t yah?” Draal asked with a raised brow.

Kanjigar rolled his eyes, “He means that James knows of the Lake bloodline.” A nagging little memory had him lock eyes with Barbara, “Wait, but you said-“

“I told him about magic but not specifically us being related to the Lady of the Lake,” Barbara finished with an analytical gaze. It gets dismissed as she said casually, “Then again that is our last name. It’s not a complete stretch.”

“What’s with humans and last names?” Draal asked.

“Blinky has a last name,” Jim pointed out.

“That’s only because he’s traditional like that,” Kanjigar said.

“Can we get back to the topic of my ex sending an assassin to us?” Barbara waved her arms out.

Oh yeah, that.

“Actually, Angor brought me here on his own volition,” Strickler said, adding more madness to this method. “From my understanding, the second target of his is his previous masters.”

Kanjigar narrowed his eyes at the changeling, recalling how easily remembered all of these facts were. “Let me guess, you once thought about getting that ring for yourself but there too many risks.”

He had the decency to look guilty as he coughed awkwardly, “I never had the, ah, proper motivation or strive to go expedition for that ring.”

“But James did,” Jim said and his entire being just radiated sadness.

It clicked in the Trollhunter’s head. A powerful threat like Angor Rot is a double edge sword. James Sturges gained the most terrifying ally and vengeful enemy rolled into one just for the mere existence of Barbara and Jim Lake.

The silent echo of Lake Spawn rang throughout the room.

Draal asked, “What do we do now?”

“Have Strickler healed and well rested, for starters,” Kanjigar began, turning to his sister’s overview.

“He needs the Heartstone,” Barbara decided and Kanjigar nodded with no need for explanation. The Heartstone of Trollmarket was more than enough to heal any wound but the changeling in question was the one to refute.

“No wait, are you sure you should take me?” Strickler of all things looks nervous but then again it is justified.

Kanjigar said firmly, “I assure you Strickler, I will personally make sure you’re safe. I am the Trollhunter after all, I protect everyone in need. The tolerance of Trollmarket is something I should have improved on some time ago and if anything happens I will deal with the matter.”

Strickler blinked and besides him, Barbara had a small proud smile.

“You have my word as well,” Draal said.

As much as Kanjigar is grateful to hear that, he remembers Draal’s experience with changelings. There’s nothing wrong with that but then Kanjigar realizes that Draal was here with the Lakes and apparently there’s spell books on the coffee table that look familiar.

On a closer look, Kanjigar connects the dots, picking up a book that he knew for sure that he caught Draal reading in the library, “Son, why did you bring books about the magical messaging system to Barbara?”

The two in question shared a look. Barbara kept tilting her head in his direction encouraging while Draal responded with shrugged shoulders.

Finally, Draal explained his plan to contact Nomura.

“Wait, you successfully rescued Enrique Nunez?” Strickler asked, fully informed, shocked, and amazed, “And now, Draal, you want to _make a call_ _to the Darklands?”_

“Yes,” he nodded, “Lady Barbara said it was doable.”

“We need something of Nomura’s to be a stable conduit,” Barbara explained.

“What like something from her house?” Jim asked.

Strickler shook his head, “Her apartment must have been cleared out by the Janus Order by now. Come to think of it, mine was likely cleared too. Your best bet would be something from her office in the museum.”

“Alright, I’m going to break into the museum again, Jim you want in?”

Draal was preparing to leave and Jim, a bit caught off guard at the invitation, made a move to join but Barbara coughed harshly to give him the face of a disapproving parent. Jim smartly declined.

Kanjigar on the other hand grabbed at Draal’s shoulder to stop him, “Draal, I know you have every intention on rescuing her.”

There’s a tension in his shoulders as Draal faces him but it all drops. His tone is one of sadden frustrations, longing for the smallest of victories. “I can’t do that without opening up the bridge. This is the next best plan. I have to see her again and tell her myself that one day we will be together.”

He recognizes this look on his son’s face. Draal, weary eyes and weighted with a tension Kanjigar didn’t understand at first. He was like this on the day before Deya’s battle at Killahead Bridge.

All this time, this longing misery and grief over not a person but a relationship, Draal kept his torments quiet and far away from Kanjigar.

“You loved her for centuries,” Kanjigar realized, finally seeing the strains and effort Draal has put for Nomura.

His son nodded, holding breath for the assumed worse that could be said. The young troll is not wrong for expecting that from Kanjigar but it still hurts. Kanjigar thought he would finally stop being a monster to his son but apparently not.

He’s changing though. He can do that not just for Draal but for Nomura too. Hopefully the same could be said for Trollmarket for Jim and the other changelings.

Kanjigar patted Draal’s head and gave him the most assuring and comforting smile he can give, “That’s quite honorable son. She’s lucky to have you as am I. It’s wise of you to not attempt anything with the bridge otherwise that’ll be tempting fate when we’re going to be busy with Angor Rot and Sturges.”

All of Draal’s fears melted and with one last nod, Kanjigar sent Draal out into the night.

Barbara turned to her own son, “Now you can go rob a museum with Draal.”

Jim blinked owlishly and then ran after Draal. The Trollhunter trusts the boys to keep each other safe.

As for the injured changeling, he stares wide eyed at the parents who let their children commit crimes. Strickler shuttered, “How long was I gone?”

It’s quieter than she remembered. The atmosphere is still as gloomy and stale though, glad to know that things haven’t changed that much.

Although there isn’t much for Nomura to inspect while imprisoned in the arena cells.

Everything here is designed to be tiring and draining but still keep them on their toes and be ready to be tossed into the arena for the king’s enjoyment. Nomura is sick of it all.

There’s almost a routine here, like daily Gunmar is miserable but like clockwork someone sends a prisoner to fight until they can’t. Most die but Nomura appears to be the one with most combat experience.

After all, she’s the last one left in this cell block.

Old Hiccups from two cages down didn’t survive their fourth trip to the arena. Their little hiccups always interrupted her naps.

High Pitch Giggles was annoying for weeks until one battle that made them into Desperately Breathing during a Panic Attack. Nomura actually thought they died in their cell until a guard dragged them out and the giggles came back, happy to finally be allowed to die with the king’s permission.

Joker used to be in the cell left of her. They were the only one who made an effort to talk when the guards were away. No one every responded to the jokes but the day they were gone, Nomura wished she laughed at one of them. They weren’t funny but they were nice to listen to.

It’s all quiet now.

The arena isn’t even far from here yet it’s not in use. She know for certain that trolls who weren’t even imprisoned can end up there but right now it’s far too long since the last scream of terror or the roars of the Nyarlagroths.

It’s just qui-

What the fuck is that?

In the middle of Nomura’s cell, a smoky ball of gray formed from the dust and looked denser yet remained floating.

She’s really tempted to touch it, raising a pink talon to poke it but mere seconds before she could, light flashed within the ball. Spooked, Nomura ended up jumping with her back against the wall as the light dimmed and the ball reformed into a clear smooth sheet, still with smoky rim, but the center of it is the biggest surprise ever.

“Nomura? Oh wow its working!” Draal calls as the image refocuses and, yep, it’s him, her idiot.

“Shush,” she hisses, peering out to confirm the emptiness of the cell block, “Draal, what in Pale Lady’s name is this?!”

“So I had this idea, I didn’t think it could work, but it do,” he said with a blinding grin.

Nomura leans back, taking a deep breath to relax and take all of this in. She sits with her legs crossed and carefully guided the Draal-ball thing to her level. “This is magic,” she said flatly, “you don’t do magic.”

“I got help.” He raised a hand to wave to someone out of view that she cannot see. What she did see is a metal prosthetic arm.

“You lost your arm?!”

Draal quickly hid it behind his back, gulping, “Um.”

“Tell me,” she growled, fuming over something she couldn’t prevent. There’s a sinking feeling in her chest telling her that it’s all her fault and that feeling just plummets when Draal confirms that Bular did the deed. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing? It’s not your fault he has a massive ego that turned into his poison,” he said.

“I’ve hurt you,” she uttered quietly, feeling every bit of loneliness from the empty cells that once held pained slaves. “I hurt your family too and I was _bait_ and you fucking chased after me like the fool I know you are.”

She doesn’t dare look at him, too ashamed at how she acted back at the bridge. She tried to hurt him enough to send him out of the fight before Bular got to him and then the next minute she tries to save him only to lead them both into the Darklands. If she ever gets the chance she would thank Kanjigar for finally being a father and getting Draal out of here.

Nomura shudders at the thought of Draal imprisoned here. Gunmar would kill him immediately.

A new voice catches her completely off guard.

“I never thought I’d see the day where Zelda Nomura was guilty.”

“Stricklander?” She blinks as Draal moved the viewport over to show her oldest changeling companion. He’s looks beaten up just as her but there’s salve wraps and other healing nonsense on him.

He weakly smiles, “Hello Nomura, are you holding up well?”

Breath hitches up in her throat. That’s the exactly same line he asked her the first time she entered the surface world. She’s able to nod though despite her own injuries from her last arena fight.

Before their human days, they weren’t directly patch mates or whatever but they did see each other trying to survive in the Darklands. On the rare occasion they took down a baby Nyarlagroths together and parted ways. Then one day Gunmar’s advisor tells her that she’s been deem worthy to finally use her role as a changeling.

Strickler got her out of the Darklands and she never imagined of hearing from him again after the fiasco of Killahead Bridge Two Electric Boogaloo. Yet here he is, just as damaged as she.

“You helped Draal with this phone spell?” As she started that question, common sense hit her at the word spell. Strickler caught that look and gave her a knowing smile. “Oh you got to be kidding me.”

Again, the viewport spun and she got a better look at the room they’re in, Draal’s den she could only guess from the amount of moss and dry wood as the décor and furniture for a lack of better words.

On a log that functions as bench, Jim is there with a small wave, “Hi Nomura.” His horns have grown since the last time she saw him, oh right that last time was when she kidnapped him.

It takes a second attempt for her to speak, a little overwhelmed from all of these familiar faces that she thought she would only see again once the world ages without her. “Hello Little Gynt, um, what is all of this?”

“We’d magic up the Fetch and managed this connection since, well, it’s not exactly safe to open up of the bridge,” he trailed off, his long ears flickered, avoiding the subject that they can’t rescue her and implying that fact makes him feel bad.

Nomura cuts in, “I get it. I really do, but why even call me of all things? Or face time, Fetch call, whatever.”

The viewport shifts over to Draal and he exhales deeply, moving the Fetch to another room. Finally alone, he tells her, “I’m sorry I left you.”

“Draal I told you to go.”

“No, not just that time but every time I did leave you,” he exclaimed and rambled on. “The first time we met, I believed you were my enemy and I didn’t care for anything else other than being a protector. Each fight we engaged in, you choose to talk, to poke fun at me until I quipped back. But after each time we got to together, we left each other in the end.

“At Deya’s battle of Killahead Bridge, I didn’t even seek you out but we found ourselves at the battlefield. I left you, I abandoned all hope on us at that moment and I never even tried to imagine if you were alive after because I was scared of losing you all over again and again and this time I did lose you!”

He pauses for breath and right when she wants to comfort him, Draal whispers one last thing, “I can’t even hold your hand.”

Instinctively, she attempts to reach out to him, not caring about logic as her hand passes through the image that disperses into fog.

The spell wavers as Nomura retracts her hand, “Oops.”

Draal’s face reemerges into a smooth surface again and once the image refocuses, she sees him actually chanting a spell to fix her little mishap. Actually the chanting is just him mumbling, “Please work. Please work.”

In his hand is actually a familiar little pot.

“Is that one of my miniature renaissance vases?”

“Um, yes,” Draal said.

“And why do you have it?”

“For magic,” he answered and gestured to the Fetch phone spell, “Lady Barbara said we needed a conduit and your favorite piece would be the best choice.”

Nomura blinks, “Out of the twenty pots in my office, you knew which one is my favorite and you choose the miniature version.”

“Well yeah, I wouldn’t risk the bigger one breaking.”

There are ten renaissance pots and vases decorating her office, each with a miniature copy as a cute additional. Each one has a different value, artist, ceramic integrity, and story and out of all of them, Draal knew which one was her favorite.

In his hand, casted with a blue outline of magic linking with the Fetch, is a vase designed with a still life of an Italian city as the sun sets in the background’s country side.

It’s a sight she was able to witness in real life when she was younger. She climbed to the tallest building just to see the sundown at the roof of a bell tower. It was marvelous view that felt so freeing after all that time poised as an intern museum curator.

Nomura can still clearly imagine the strong breeze of city and country even in this cold cell of the Darklands.

“Look, Nomura,” Draal said with an easy smile, likely caught her reminiscing, “I’m really happy to see you’re alive.”

“This is all a risk,” she warns, keeping her voice down, “I don’t exactly have a schedule for when Gunmar wants dinner theater.” A low growl is his only response. “But I’m glad to see you too.”

Nomura really thought she would never see his face again. There’s still a pit in her stomach knowing that there is no guarantee on a rescue and that pit deepens at the thought of up a sudden phone call spell in the middle of an arena fight.

Or worse, her mind cruelly suggests, what if Draal winds up seeing her broken corpse.

She forces a smile through the nightmare in her head, “You really shouldn’t call often.”

Draal frowns and for a moment she thinks he sees through her or is wondering of the same terrors. Instead he just nods and agrees, “Yeah, it took a long time to figure this out even with conduit. I just had to give this spell one last try before I go out on a mission.”

“Oh so you only called as a last will thing,” Nomura casually teases, “I always knew you were sentimental like that.”

He rolls his eyes, “It’s not a dangerous one. It’s mostly just diplomacy with a volcano troll. Father and Lady Barbara are doing most of that.”

That flips her mind honestly.

“You’re finally going on a mission with your father?” She whistles lowly, “I never thought I live to hear the day of that ever happening.”

“Nomura, you were there when I went on a mission with my father,” Draal waves dramatically with a grin. “We fought you!”

“I’m just saying,” Nomura raises her hands in defense, “After all the times when I tried seducing you and you just went on and on about your daddy issues, I’m in shock at this development.”

The conversation ended up winding down, as if they’re stalling for all the time they need to simply see each other before they say goodbye.

Once they do though, the silence returns and Nomura feels terribly alone all over again.

But this time she can have some pitiful hope that Draal’s out there, alive and cared by a family.

To Jim’s surprise, it only took two days to successfully pull off this little Fetch Call spell for Draal. It helped that they had an expert on changeling devices but it’s still rather awkward to be in the same room with Strickler.

They leave Draal’s humble abode for his talk with Nomura, and wow she looks worse than Strickler and he’s been healed up to the point he needs support for walking.

Jim is currently that crutch for him as they walk through Trollmarket. There’s not a really a neighborhood or apartment set up, trolls either live in their shops or crave out a den within range. For the changeling’s living arrangements, Kanjigar has offered up room in his own den. 

Supposedly it’s a sign of cooperation or to ease other trolls suspension on Strickler. Even now as they take the less crowded route, passerby trolls watch them carefully.

Huh, Jim really thought the sharpness of everyone’s gazed went down over the past few months but now they’re back and directed at Strickler.

None thankfully interrupt them, all are smart enough to leave them alone but nervousness still has Jim walk a bit too faster than Strickler’s injured state could allow.

Jim still can’t believe that the root of this danger is his birth father of all things. James Sturges, the leader of changelings and controller of an assassin and who knows what else.

It’s all really, crazy and overwhelming to learn over the course of two days.

“I see the reality and its stresses you’ve been suppressing is finally here, Young Atlas.”

Strickler couldn’t even say that without pausing for breath.

Guiltily, Jim slows their pace, “Sorry, I um, got lost in my head.”

The older changeling nodded, encouraging him to continue, “It helps to speak it all out. Fragmenting thoughts can be very disorganizing, distracting you with too many threads that lead to nowhere.”

There’s many things trapped inside his head, loathing his dad, fearing this new golden magic, but the first thing that pops into his mind is already out of his mouth.

“I wanted an adventure. I guess I got more than I wished for and I know the world doesn’t revolve around me but all of this started on the day I said that to Toby. I thought that everything was just my fault but really, it’s out of my control. Mom’s magic and James’ troll life, how in the world did any of that create me?”

Existential crisis on questioning how or why his life is even at this point really messes with Jim. Ever since the failed Permanent Change Self spell, it feels like he should never even be human or deserves a normal life.

“Jim, there will always be things out of control or reach,” Strickler said. Despite the injuries and the nasty looks trolls sent him Strickler held his head high, either through sheer pride or no tolerance. “What you have right now is your life and there may be things you cannot force into your favor or you’re born with challenges you’d never foresee. Those aspects are powerful but you’ll learn to either soften the blow or raise your defensives.”

“Huh,” he said, slowly understanding it all, “you’re always a teacher, aren’t you?”

Strickler chuckled, “Old habits, I suppose.”

As they slowly walk, Jim asks, “Are you scared of me?”

Guilt is evident as Strickler sags down, “It was mostly out of surprise and caution.”

“Not-Enrique told me about the Spawn stuff,” he said uncomfortably, “I never stopped to think about my bloodline from the Gumm-gumms’ perspective.”

“That’s the power of narration, to sway the audience to a favored direction,” Strickler explained. “I supposed I was fooled into believing that too. I’m sorry to ever see you in that view.” Then he titled his head curiously, “Didn’t I go over this lesson of propaganda last semester?”

“My life has been a bit too hectic since your last class, Strickler,” Jim gestured to his horns then to Trollmarket. “I would like one quiet night, please.”

It is a quiet night until it’s not.

Eli Pepperjack was readjusting his corkboard of the weirdness in Arcadia Oaks when his mom says that a friend of his is here for a school project. To his horror, the school bully comes crashing into his room, switching off the lights and blinding the curtain windows.

“Steve?” He exclaims, tripping backwards and falling to the floor, “Why are you here?”

In his fearful panic, Eli almost doesn’t notice that Steve hauled in two cat cages and the bully himself looks just as terrified as him.

“Okay so that thing, the pic you showed off at the school trip at the museum,” Steve rambled and when the two cages started rattling, the blond yelps and tosses it to the corner of the bedroom. He points at one cage, the one with something thrashing inside, “Is that the same thing, right? But like, not splat on the pavement?”

This could all be a prank but from the way Steve Palchuk is trembling and shuddering, Eli takes a chance. He reacted the same way when he swore he saw stone creatures running amuck.

The boy crawls towards the animal cages, tilting his head to get a better look inside.

One cage, the one that Steve’s pointed at, stopped rumbling and a set of acid yellow eyes stare back at Eli with a feral nature. The creepy creature might actually be saying something almost comprehendible but it’s lost from the noise coming from the other cage.

The second cage is smaller and an intense buzzing noise rattles the cage. In the dark lit room, the neon glow stands out from the weirdest large beetle Eli has ever seen, like nothing on Earth compares to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Team Trollhunter gets all caught up on the news of James and Angor Rot none of it is pleasant. Oh and Draal and Jim do crimes.
> 
> Dah da da, beyond the fetching glass we go, peering into the darklands we go! While Nomura is strong enough to survive the arena, others are not so lucky, leaving her very alone with her thoughts. Luckly Draal manages to pull through. 
> 
> I just really wanted them to at least talk to each other again. 
> 
> Jim and Strickler finally talk things over and man, it's been so long since I wrote Young Atlas, kinda missed that. 
> 
> Also, dum dum dummmmm Creepslayerz origins in the next chapter: One Creeper at a Time!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. One Creeper at a Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come join the Creepslayerz in their first adventure!

Now this is a story all about how Steve Palchuk’s life got flipped right upside down. Now he’d like to take a minute, just sit right there, he’ll tell you all how he became the prince of Arcadia.

Or, uh, technically Spring King nominee but that does make him a prince.

Whatever, he’ll win the crown.

But like, there’s this creepy thing going down at the moment.

Let’s just start how this night began.

Dinner was done and his mom told him to take out the garbage and then suddenly, ugh, Coach Lawrence, _Mom’s boyfriend_, comes out to like do a pep talk or whatever.

Ugh, whatever, that’s not important!

The weird feelings jazz when Coach tried to reach out to him, tell him that his dad’s leftover dirt can be brushed aside and now that Coach is in the picture, the two of them could be buddy-buddy and yeah this is just way too much for Steve to process.

So he just does his chores with mild complaints and that’s when some sort of glowing bug _thing_ jumps out of the can and clings to his shirt!

Right before Steve screams, another _thing_ jumps out of the bushes and jumps at his face!

He stumbles into the garage somehow, someway, and throws the two little creatures into his cat’s old animal carrier.

That appears to be a terrible idea as the two things just go _ape shit_. The cage thrashes out of his grasps and Steve struggles to get a second carrier and again, somehow and someway, the bug thing darts into the cage and now Steve’s left with two captures creatures that appear to want to fight each other and him.

So what can he do?

Try not to scream for one, as Steve takes a closer look at the things.

The bug is basically an angry disco ball with eyes that peer into him with no humanity.

The bigger thing, some greenish, small monkey, whatever, it stares at him with too much emotions and intelligence as it drools and mutters something that cannot be words.

There’s no real logic or reason but suddenly Steve recalls that there is only one person in town that openly discusses about thing as creepy and weird as this. In fact that one person actually had a picture of some blob that’s the same color of this monkey thing.

Now fast forward and Eli Pepperjack is gob smack at living proof of the things he says are real right before Steve would normally stuff him into a locker.

The two cages still rattle occasionally and Eli smartly scoots them into separate corners of his bedroom.

“Steve, how or better yet, why did you bring this to _me!?”_

“You’re the one who always goes on about this sort of crap, I’m just doing you a favor and actually delivered,” Steve bragged but yelped again when the monkey’s cage bounced over to them. “Okay, I’m freaking out and I don’t know what to do!”

That’s a blatant summary of Steve’s life.

Mom and Dad said that they were going to make it work, do legal stuff like actually getting married but at the last minute Dad apparently got called by another family and hollered out of town but sometimes he’d come back. Steve’s input on the matter was nonexistent as his parents would be tight lipped about it. There was nothing he could do about it other than do something big and loud to get them to pay attention to him.

On his dad’s return trips, Steve always makes an emphasis about his football games or his popularity and for a while it looked like that was enough of a reason for him to stay. Sure at that time his parents were never in the same room but as the son, Steve should be more than enough to convince his dad to stay with them.

Apparently not as his trips became infrequent and by this school year there’s been no news from him ever since.

Again, Steve pushes his freaking out to the back of his mind as this creepiness has his full attention.

Oh and don’t forget, he doesn’t know what to do.

Eli’s hands shake as he reaches over to grab an old camera, the one that dispenses photos, Polaroid’s if that’s the right word, and takes a pic of the caged creatures.

Both snarl and buzz when the light flashes at them and Eli thumb-tacks the photos to this crazy corkboard of conspiracies.

“Trolls, aliens, wizards,” Steve read off, tracing the red threads that literally connect each title, “This is what you’ve been obsessing with?”

“It’s what I’ve been studying,” Eli corrected with that confidence that no one ever believed, well, no one until Steve as he looks back at the cages. “There’s this secret side of Arcadia that everyone ignores. Wild animal attacks, mysterious damages overnight, and when something like missing people or animal cases happen, they’re left unsolved.”

“No they get handed off to Buzzfeed Unsolved, duh.”

The smaller boy shakes his head, “That doesn’t explain the creepiness. Do you think you could even explain green gremlins and glowing beetles with tentacles things?”

Again the cages rattled, this time it looks like the gremlin is making its way back to the bug. Thin arms with sharp claws reach out between the bars to literally dig into the carpet to crawl to attack the other cage.

“Steve your cat cages aren’t gonna hold out,” Eli squeaked. “Wait why do you have different sized cat cages in the first place?”

Watching the gremlin bend its fingers backwards to squeeze through the carrier’s square bars made Steve’s stomach sick and he tried not to barf as he said, “Cats grow Pepperjack. El Tigre needed a new cage.”

There’s a pause as the boys watch the gremlin finally reach the bug’s cage to pound at the carrier.

“You named your cat El Tigre?”

“That’s not important right now!” Steve marches over to kick the gremlin away from the buzzing beetle, “What do we do with this!?”

Apparently kicking was the wrong idea as the cage’s door swung right open the moment it crashed into the wall.

The boys screamed as the green creeper launched out its prison and scrambled around the room. It knocked books and papers into the air, pulled at Steve’s hair, ran Eli into the floor, and once it got its tiny hands on the bug’s cage, the creeper roared and shook and pounded at the container.

Outside the door, one of Eli’s moms shouted, “Eli Leslie Pepperjack, what is all that noise!”

“Just a movie!” He yelled as his voice cracked.

“You boys are supposed to be doing homework!”

“This is our homework!” Steve interjected and hoped the terror in his voice isn’t noticeable as they watch the beetle return its own ferocity with buzzes against the creeper.

Eli hissed to him, “That’s a terrible lie.”

“Shut up Pepperjack,” he hissed back and the two of them ducked when the creeper threw the cat cage at them.

This time the cage withheld and the beetle buzzed violently inside. Meanwhile the creeper must have gotten tired and began to trash the room again.

It ended up on top of the bookcase with some toy laptop that shouts out the button letters.

“Steve, you came to me for help so I’d appreciate it if you don’t free the creepers,” Eli said, grabbing the empty cage as they warily watch the creeper experiment with the toy. “What do you expect me to do with them?”

“I don’t know,” Steve waved around, “get rid of them?”

Eli made a face to disagree but their attention was pulled to the robotic shout of _“NO”_ at the top of the bookshelf.

The creeper scowled at the boys, barring sharp teeth as it typed on the keyboard once more.

_“RID BUGS.”_

“It understands us,” Eli said, horrified and yet he’s writing this down on a notepad, “Holy guacamole.”

The creeper continued, _“WE WILL END BUGS.”_

“Wait, ‘we’ as in there’s more of you and that?” Steve asked, pointing at the buzzing cage.

_“MORE. HUNDREDS OF US. BUGS NEW AND GROWING AND ENTERING TERRITORY,”_ was furiously typed as the creeper glared at the bug.

“It’s a turf war!” Steve exclaimed.

“On Arcadia!” Eli added.

_“I MUSTACHE LEADER,” _the creeper declared and yes there was a marker ink mustache on the creeper, _“I WILL END ALL GLOW BUGS.”_

Steve said, “That doesn’t sound good.”

Mustache the creeper yelled out, “Waka chaka!”

That’s when it jumps down to the bug’s cage, smashing the keyboard at the lock and successfully freeing the beetle.

It buzzed and its shiny light flashed brightly as it began to eat the keyboard right out of Mustache’s hands. That’s when the beetle suddenly vibrates out of its exoskeleton and now there’s two big glowing beetles buzzing angrily at everyone.

Mustache just gets madder and swipes at the beetles. It’s busy with one while the other buzzes over to Eli’s lava lamp and does the same duplication through eating it whole, lava and cord and all.

It was a bit horrifying to watch.

“My lava lamp,” Eli whined and batted his hands at the bugs, “These bugs are definitely not normal!”

“Yah think buttsnack!” Steve finds a baseball bat in the clutter and does a wide swing.

Like always, it is a perfect hit for the star athlete.

The beetle crashes through window curtains and into the open world.

So apparently no one thought to close the windows when discussing about these dangerous creatures, which, as Steve would like to point out, are free from their cages.

Before the boys could even react to that, Mustache and the leftover beetles scramble out of the window.

“Steve, stop being violent, please!” Eli cries, running over to the window to watch the creatures Steve has released into the night.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” He impulsively says even though inside he’s blaming himself for this disaster.

Even more on instinct, Steve pent up with paranoia at the escaped creatures and his reality shaken, he raised up a fist to punch down Eli for saying the truth.

This song and dance has happened plenty of times already yet the last time Steve got ready to punch someone was back on the museum field trip with Jim Lake.

Noting unusual or out of place was there to make Steve vibe out of it but the moment Steve swung there was just this heavy feeling forced into his head that froze him from the inside out.

It was like his body couldn’t go forward with the punch and all that angry over Lake just halted. His mind and body got whiplash from the sudden change, like suddenly leaving a freezing classroom and into the hot sunny sidewalk.

Now that feeling isn’t here as Steve hesitated with the punch. Instead he just sees Eli cower with his arms over his head, curling into his own body.

A small part of him realizes how unfair this is, Steve’s just dumping his problems to Eli and made things worse.

Steve lowers his arm and huffed, and repeated with less bite, “Don’t tell me what to do. I’m going after them.” He didn’t bother to pick up the damaged cat cages but he did grab the baseball bat, “I’m taking this.”

He wasted no time to get to his moped. Alright he did shout goodbye to Mrs. And Mrs. Pepper-Jack but whatever. By the time he started the engine, Eli ran out of the house with a helmet and his own bat.

“Steve, you don’t know how dangerous this could get. If there are hundreds of creepers hidden in Acadia and then suddenly there are beetles that eat tech to repopulate, that’s a major threat to the creeper’s ecosystem. It won’t be just a turf war but an outright apocalypse.”

The blond blinked, “That just sounds like the same damn thing. Look, just hop on Pepperjack.”

At first, Steve didn’t have an idea on where to go but fortunately Eli knew how to pick of the trail.

Eli pointed out to the typical signs of raccoon in people’s garbage cans but noticed how there’s more scratch marks or odd footprints. He keeps noting all these little things everyone have brushed off for years, completing in denial of the weirdness that’s really here.

Now with clearer eyes, Steve wished to stay ignorant but he can’t. There has to be something done as some monster war is going on.

The trail leads them over the bridge and the little hints become glaringly obvious.

Creepers actually race across the lampposts, ignoring them as they head into town. A few pause to stare at something down in the empty ravine.

Steve doesn’t bother to be curious but Eli does as he gasps and slams his hands on Steve’s cheeks to turn his head. With little stumbling with his driving, Steve brakes and sees what’s got Eli so freaked.

The nearby creepers growl as they all watch a hole in the canal’s wall suddenly appear and a cloaked humanoid figure walks out.

“That’s a stone creature I’ve been talking about,” Eli whispers with too much excitement, “wait this one is smaller than the ones I’ve seen but also familiar for some reason.”

“Pepperjack it does not matter,” Steve said, grimacing at a creeper sniffing them, “One creeper at a time.”

“No, no I’m telling you, this blue one looks really familiar,” Eli said but nope, they’re driving away. “Okay sure the other ones I’ve seen are maybe blue too but-“

“But buttsnack, whatever, we’re here,” Steve said as he follows a herd of creepers into the alley way behind Stuart’s Electronics Store.

Loud buzzes of beetles resonate from the dumpster while the creepers stay high on the rooftops. Each and every glowing pair of eyes is filled with malice and fire and once the boys made their entrance those eyes is on them.

“Um, Steve, you had a plan right?” Eli is trembling in his seat as Steve gets off the moped, letting the engine stay on for a tactical retreat but he’s going to do some damage before then.

“Yeah, violence,” Steve said and took a swing on the dumpster.

The loud clang of metal rings out, spooking the beetles out and Steve gets to work.

From the very first time he batted the beetle out of the window, it made no sense to how it didn’t explode on impact. So naturally he made use of those perfect flying baseballs.

Each hit sent the beetle ball ricocheting against the building walls as the creepers jumped down at them. All around the creepers went to grab the beetles, trying to rip them apart or eat them but the beetles were a chaotic light show.

The more Steve batted, the more that tried to ram into his helmet. At one point he saw Eli defending the moped from a group of beetles that were attempted to eat the motor or battery.

With the near indestructibility of these beetles, it was so easy for Steve to hit them into the creepers and make them go splat. If that didn’t work then hitting the creepers head on worked just as well.

Here these boys are, standing back to back in some stinky alleyway pounding down creepers into slimy puddles.

A creeper almost got Eli’s helmet off but Steve punched it off. Another was biting at Steve’s leg but Eli smashed it away before the bleeding could get worse.

At this point the boys were covered in creeper guts and scratches and some of their own blood but with their numbers dwindling, the beetles gained the advantage to intimidate the rest of them away. Steve and Eli had their arms over each other’s shoulders to stand up, exhausted and sore as the last of the creepers ran off.

One creeper landed right in front of them and pulled out a marker, drawling a mustache. It pointed at them then slides a finger across its throat. With a parting glare, all the creepers were gone.

“We did it Pepperjack!” Steve yelled, ignoring all of the pain to have this exhilarating feeling after so many months or years of feeling crappy or not good enough.

He finally did something right.

Then Eli had to be Eli and pointed at the swarm of glowing beetles still here and staring at them.

Oh shit.

“Should we call the police?” Eli asked.

“Huh, I should have called them in the first place,” Steve said sarcastically, “and tell them about the creepers and the beetles that had a fight club in an alleyway.” He shrugged Eli off to hold up his bat despite the angry cuts irritating him, “No way, they won’t believe us. Go call one of your stupid friends or whatever. Run away Pepperjack.”

Instead of taking his suggestions, Eli mirrored his stance and said in his whiny and frustrated voice, “I don’t have friends, Steve, you would know that. You go call one of your friends.”

As the beetles closed in, Steve yelled, just as frustrated and scared, “I don’t have friends either!”

He tensed up as the boys backed up to the wall. Eli on the other hand loosened his shoulders and looked to Steve. He didn’t want to see whatever was on Eli’s face but he took a quick glance and just saw a sad, pitiful look.

Before Steve could outright speak his bitterness or shame, although his scowl should be enough, the back door of the Electronics Store slams open with a big boom noise.

In a matter of seconds, the beetles flew off into the night as three people poke their heads out of the store.

“What are you kids doing in my alleyway?” Stuart the owner and local taco truck driver asked.

Right next to him, a familiar annoying boy questioned, almost offended, “Wait you’re asking why they’re here and not why they’re covered in stinky green and red fluids?”

The third person actually walks over to them, stomping on the slime like it is rain puddles. The ninja kicking angel examines the goo on the bottom of her shoes, hopping around on one foot to get a better angle, “Lively, it’s nothing like the mono-oxygen dihydrogen little brother.”

“It’s gross, just like squirrel poo.”

Stuart doesn’t bat an eye as he goes back inside to bring out a mop, bucket of water, and towels. He brings that last item to Steve and Eli, “You two are a right mess.”

“Um, yeah,” Steve said, totally not sure what to say as he accepts the towel and starts wiping the guck off his face.

“Why are you so casual about,” Eli frantically waved everywhere, “this!”

Stuart shrugs, “Happens all the time. Sure I was a bit shocked at what this town had but we had something similar in my hometown.”

“What,” Eli and Steve said.

The boy scoffed, “I don’t need to learn more about that place, the smell alone is enough. Come on Aja, we’re taking the box of boom and going home.”

He ducked back inside but Aja took her time to look at the gut splatters and the worn and torn boys.

“Were you two just in combat?” She asked and then poked Steve’s sore shoulder. He groaned a bit in pain as Aja immediately apologized, “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean, I didn’t understand how human, um I mean how injuries work around here.”

Eli blinked widely, “Um skin can get damaged and it sends signals to our brains to alert us of something needs fixing.”

“Ah of course,” Aja laughed loudly then trailed off, “I knew that, yes. I should go before Krel gets mopey.” She headed back to the door and let her head poke out, “It sure looks like a battlefield victory.”

Suddenly remembering how words work, Steve stammered, “Yeah, yes, we definitely slayed!”

The blondes waved goodbye as Eli got the last of creeper guts off his face. From the looks of it, he didn’t get too many scratches or bite while Steve did his usual thing on being the big and loud distraction to take the bulk of the disaster.

Still here, Stuart said, “I don’t exactly have a first aid kit but I know from experience that a warm shower and aloe Vera gel will heal up the cuts and bite marks. So don’t worry about infection or that other stuff.”

“I didn’t worry about that at all,” Steve said, tossing the towel back to the adult, and hoped back onto his moped. “Let’s get out of here, Pepperjack.”

“Wait, hold on, I can’t believe this,” Eli stared gapping at Stuart who got to work on mopping up creeper guts, “You know about the creepers?”

“I really don’t care about this,” Steve muttered.

“I only know what I see,” Stuart, a man with wild hair and a stained white shirt, said smoothly, “and what I see are the strangest piles of slime that remind me of home. So kid, I think you had enough for one night.”

“But you know something, you actually know something,” Eli insisted.

“Do I?” The brit said with an easy smile.

Steve rolled his eyes, he’s a little intrigued but also oh so tired, “Pepperjack, I’m leaving with or without you.”

He almost did leave him, really Steve isn’t that nice.

Still, he drove Eli home.

On the ride there, Eli said, “We discovered creepers and weird beetles and interfered with some territorial standoff. Wow, and all on a school night. I can’t believe I went pass my curfew.”

“Okay I am this close to just making you walk the rest of the way.”

“Sorry, I’m just processing this all.”

Neither said anything for the rest of the way up until they reached Eli’s garage way.

Steve said, “They’re still out there. This might happen again. I know what I did was an accident and this giant fight would’ve happened without me caging up the leader but I think I would do this all over again.”

Eli looked over their injuries and said, “We did minimize the damage, it could’ve gone way worse Steve but I think we did a good thing here.”

He nodded, “We slayed the creeps.”

Eli grinned, “We’re creep slayers!”

“Hmm,” Steve rubbed his chin, the only part of him that is not sore, “that sounds cool but it’s missing something.”

Tapping his own chin, Eli thoughtfully pondered, “With a z?”

“Hell yeah that’s it! Creepslayerz, that’s us!”

They high fived!

“Does that make us friends?” Eli asked excitedly.

Steve blinked, “Um, sort of? This is like a secret protector thing so-“

His jumbled excuses were cut off by Eli’s happy woo-hoo.

Back in the alleyway that’s filled with goo, Stuart mops up the mess as best he could.

It’s a real chore and this time is way messier than the usual monster aftermath than usual but Stuart can manage this. Also it’s his alleyway, if he gets another smell complaint it’ll be way too soon from the last one.

So here Stuart is, humming a little song as he uses the mop as a mic when he gets lost in the music.

His rendition of _Yesterday_ is interrupted when a snort alerts him, “Stuey, give me the usual.”

Leaning against the ally entrance is the little creature that somehow stumbled into Stuart’s life.

One day this small fella just introduced himself as Not-E, ate some of the experimental trials of burritos and tacos, and left with a loud burp.

“I’m almost done here, mate, just gotta,” he shoveled up the remainder of the goo into the bucket. Sure there’s some goo still on the walls but he can hose it down later. “Alright, Naughty, I can fix up something.”

They scrolled over to the taco truck as the empty street was safe from human eyes. Not that it looks like Not-E appeared concerned, if anything he looked more tired than nonchalant.

At the grill, Stuart wiped up some frittatas with extra garlic.

“So, you’re not immediately trash talking about your new neighbors,” Stuart said between mouthfuls.

“You’re not my therapist,” Not-E grumbled, reaching over for the bottle of hot sauce, chewing off the bottle cap and eating it. “But I will say that my old boss became my roommate.” At that the small fellow chugged.

“Ah, that’s awkward,” Stuart commented, taking a sip of his own mug of tomato juice. “Well most new stuff is. There’s this new family that still adjusting to life here. Things might get dangerous or plain weird but I’m gonna be there for them like I am for you.”

Not-E lowered down the bottle, watching him with big, careful eyes, “You’re way too soft for this world.” He poked at Stuart’s belly.

A sharp laugh forced itself out of Stuart. He couldn’t resist teasing, “Well, you could say I’m out of this world.” He wiggled his eye brows at Not-E would just rolled his eyes.

“I’ll say. What sort of human sees me and offers up a burrito?”

Stuart shrugs, “I’d serve any customer in need for a good meal. Besides, stranger things have happened to me.”

“Sure they have,” Not-E sarcastically said, “but I’m willing to bet this town will get stranger.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because the word is the guy who replaced my boss is a real piece of work,” he said and the seriousness and intense look in his eyes is bringing back a familiar vibe from a certain colonel. “Now I never met him personally but I knew his lapdog. One of the first things I did was mess with his office and even though that was months ago before I quit, there was a lot of dirt on the people in this town.”

Stuart gulped. Not-E was always vague about his life, just like every other alien Stuart meets so this begs the question. “Why are you telling me this?”

“The new boss, the director, and the lowly lapdog keeps an eye out on anything out of the ordinary, like _moi_,” Not-E gestured to himself. He took another bite of his meal but slowly said, “But also people, as you would say, who are out of this world.”

It was appalling how tense Stuart is and how calm Not-E is. He’s just munching on the food that Stuart always enjoys cooking for the both of them. Early on during this little thing, Stuart assumed that Not-E was another alien but the more he spoke about ‘my kin’ or ‘the world is not big enough for all this bullshit’ made it seem like he really is from Earth with no knowledge of other planets.

But now there’s a knowing glint in his eyes.

So Stuart grabs a spatula as a weapon and yells, “Oh kleb, you’re working with Area 49-B! It’s always the cute ones that betray me!” He points the kitchen tool as menacingly as possible, “I’m not going back!”

Not-E blinked “What the hell, no? I’m talking about the Janus Order.”

“Who now?”

The little fella shakes his head, “Okay, this ain’t my style so I’m going to say this once, Stuey. The director of the JO, he’s brought back a dangerous pet that scares the living shit out of me. From what I recall from the research I took a peep at, the director actively searches other creatures like me and I don’t want to find out what he does with them. Like I said, that news is from months ago so now that he’s in town where you, a known _alien_ lives, I have no idea what his plans would be if he ever got you.”

Stuart took a deep breath, processing this all and lowers the spatula.

He knew that since escaping the base there was always a possibility of his cover being blown. With that paranoia on the humans, he didn’t think to theorize there would be other dangers to look out for.

All he could mutter was, “I expected bounty hunters to be threatening my life by now.”

“Bounty hunters?” Not-E spluttered, “Stuey, what kind of life are you living? I’m kind of impressed.”

He almost says ‘not after me’ but remembers the Tarrons.

“When did your director come into town?”

“Um, like a few days ago? That’s what Lander told me.”

Stuart’s mouth goes dry, “Kleb, okay Naughty you’d better be good at keeping secrets. I think I know who this director guy is after.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, there'll be no update next week due to life's shenanigans including the time loop episode/chapter. 
> 
> As for this ep/ch, Steve is just the perfect guy for all of this madness to happen. His freaking out and Eli's curiosity just needed and little push into the right direction to see how alone they both are and also want to hold some responsibility over the creepers escaping into the night. 
> 
> It's a good way to start friendship, the original Creepslayerz episode only was amazing to see their friendship take shape.
> 
> Speaking of friendship, here's Not-Enrique, a changelings who loves stinky socks, and Stuart, a Durian who smells way worse than stinky socks. You see where my logic lays? 
> 
> Just look at them bonding over burritos, feeling alienated by society in secret, and the potential threat of suspicious organizations!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	5. Run Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the Trollhunter out of town, Aja and Krel become beetle hunters in this mania

Earth is filled with many, many surprises. There’s just so much for Aja Tarron to learn and discover.

It reminded her of the early delsons of sneaking out of the royal house into the civilian streets. All of it was a whole new adventure where Aja actually talked to Akiridions who didn’t treat her as a queen-in-waiting.

But then Mama found out about her escapades. Yes she was scolded for abandoning her role for the sake of temporary freedom but Aja would do it all over again. She learned about Akiridion-5 through a whole new perspective by actually observing and talking to other kids or their parents or marketers.

Aja enjoyed civilian life and all it took was fabricator tech to give her body only one pair of arms. She didn’t really make public appearances as the princess as often as her role required so it was almost seamless to just be a new face in a crowd of Akiridion kids.

Memories of those friends are far away now that Aja is on Earth.

The last she saw of her planet was under the fire and chaos of General Morando.

At that point her two lives were getting difficult to balance. Her friends were slowly figuring out her identity and her parents wanted her to be fully committed as the queen-in-waiting.

All she did was run away.

She ran away from her responsibility of being a royal and a friend. She never made it to the coronation where Krel had to bare the tradition and attention alone, something she knows is uncomfortable for him, while their parents were likely disappointed with her once again.

Oh how she wishes her Mama and Papa to fully heal to just scold her again. Aja and Krel miss them so much.

The first few delsons on Earth were just spent in the Mothership. Krel did everything he could to patch up most of the damage the ship took on impact and Varvatos Vex was extremely guarded to keep them inside.

For once Aja didn’t disobey. She just spent most of her time besides her parents’ stabilizing pods.

She’d wait and tightly hold onto the hope that things will be better. It was the first time she wanted to sit down and do nothing, isn’t that what her parents want from the beginning?

This guilt and shame just paralyzes her as she watches the slow healing process of her parents. There’s really nothing she can do to help.

Krel would join her too but then one day he told her, “The siege was not your fault. Mama and Papa getting hurt, it’s all awful but they’re healing now. We’re all still together, Aja.”

He told her all of that through his own choked tears and only now does Aja really regrets running away all of these times. Whatever the intention, Krel was left alone in the castle and even though he says he prefers tinkering over socializing, it was still lonely.

She can’t abandon her little brother, nor her parents or her royal responsibilities anymore.

Finally she accepts the coronation oath from Varvatos Vex and encourages her brother and guardian to take a step outside.

It’s probably the best decision Aja has ever made.

And then there were a few mishaps to remain under the cover of their disguises and well, the Tarrons now go to a higher school despite being geographically located on even level with the surrounding buildings.

The educational system for teen of agers is probably the highlight of her day once the uncomfortable tension went down.

The Mary of house Wang has been the most warming of welcomes with her lively attitude. She’s also the one to introduce her into this Springing Fling competition for royal status. The bureaucracy of this planet is the most intriguing things ever, right after shoelaces.

Also apparently Aja gained popular vote for simply kicking down the Palchuk.

Mother explained there was a popular story about the speculation of a new girl performing the unlawful act of pushing a mean blonde in front of a bus and the student body voted her up for prom queen. While Krel heavily enjoyed the swift justice, both agreed that humans can be just plain fickle.

At first it felt like a bit of a mockery to the amount of work Mama and Papa put into being the king and queen but where was Aja’s right to judge since she lacked her own worth in her princess title. So Aja decided to treat this as a proper duty, to do something worthy and earn the right to be called a princess.

Sure Shannon of house Longhannon said it was all in good fun but still, Aja is determined to win this!

Aja was so sure that her ‘normal human’ theme would win but apparently Jim of house Lake’s monster thing won the theme contest. There’s still so much to understand about humans.

Humans struggle with their own daily life, a concept not totally unheard of on Akiridion-5. Or at least, to Aja’s understanding, Akiridions were simply better at hiding it because they all have known their core roles for their lifespans.

As for today, Aja wanted to say that everything was going well. She and Krel were applying Mother’s rules on being human and Aja competed in another Spring Fling event of fast consumption of hot dogs-but-really-pork.

No surprise but the queen-in-waiting won.

Eating has been quite an interesting human experience. Thanks to Mother’s fabricator, the hard light technologies of Akiridion cores are able to project an almost flawless model replica of the human organs that should function accordingly.

Well, in theory that is.

It is mostly a mimicry of each organ’s function.

Any sort of ‘blood’ is actually the core’s attempt to continue the disguise by leaking blue oil fluid.

Krel summed it up as a liquidized version of light tech destabilizing and from Eli Pepperjack’s explanation last night, an alert that something in their human body needs fixing.

Kleb, this is like another core maintenance lesson from the royal tutors.

The lull of education can be extremely confusing or boring to her and Krel, either too abstract or already in their memory banks, so excuse Aja for wanting something wild to happen.

She gets her wish granted when the school gets infested with a skelteg swarm.

“They must have been on Mother when we got here, Aja,” Krel said as they duck around hallways in search for the swarm.

As they looked down one hallway, they heard a harmonious buzz from behind them and there they saw the beetles drifting to an adjacent path, “Why do I get the feeling there’s a lot more than we think.”

Little brother took lead as they silently followed the trail, “Back home they had a stable environment as just harmless data that manifested into their insect family. Now they’re suddenly in a new world, meaning new food to eat, the need to repopulate a community, or worse of all, confused and seeing everything as a predator.”

“Huh, I just know skelteg battles are popular to watch,” Aja said. “Although now that I think about it, neither bug would be dead in any sort of way, just knocked out of the battle lines.”

“Wait, all those times you ran off with your friends for a skelteg match, you never noticed if a bug is ever killed?”

“Hey, all those times in your lab and tinkering, did you ever research into entomology? No? Because those two things are unrelated, little brother,” Aja retorted as they reached the cafeteria to find the hurricane of buzzes, “Oh kleb!”

Aja should’ve known something was strange about the two boys behind Stuart’s shop. Arcadia appeared to be a safe place for Mother to crash land in but Varvatos is right about keeping an eye out for any dangers. So after seeing the Pepperjack and the Palchuk with battle wounds that could only mean threats are lurking in the darkness.

Standing on top of the tables, the human boys are holding up thick textbooks and swinging them at the beetles flying around. It’s crazy loud here as Aja and Krel hang back at the entrance.

“What are you two doing provoking them?” Krel yelled over the buzz.

“We lead most of them away from the computer labs,” Eli shouted, holding a book over his head, “otherwise there’ll be more of them.”

“Yeah, we’re kind of stuck,” Steve took another swing and yelped as a few beetles messed with his hair. After angrily waving them off, he made eye contact with Aja and suddenly straightened up his back and boasted, “As a noble sacrifice, trapping these dangerous creepy bugs here before it’s too late.”

“Too late for what?” Aja asked. She knows these insects aren’t particularly hostile. The worst that could happen is overpopulation.

Wait actually the really bad thing here is the bugs exposing the existence of extra-terrestrials and then the identities of her, Krel, Varvatos Vex and maybe even Stuart.

Oh right that.

Aja easily hefts up a chair, running into the swarm, “We have to get rid of them!”

“Brutality isn’t going to work!” Krel warned them all but the blondes just kept swinging, further aggravating the skelteg. “Seklos and Gaylen, don’t you ever listen?”

Eli managed to crawl under the swarm and reached the king-in-waiting, “Their shells are extremely sturdy, nothing can break them!”

Hard light technology can be like that. From Aja’s understanding with assistance from Krel, Akiridion-5 technology powered by core is the strongest thing in the known galaxies, even with non-core beings like the animal and bug life of their home world.

What on Earth could possibly beat that?

Mary Wang walks in, texting on her phone, “Hey guys, my posts about the bugs swarming the school is trending. I haven’t seen anything like this since the bees in elementary and…” She looks up from her phone to notice the large swarm, “Oh so this is where they went.”

She starts taking pictures of Steve and Aja using their improvised weapons. Right as Krel and Eli are telling her to stop and leave, Mary’s ring tone goes off and all of a sudden, the entire swarm pauses.

“Harmonized soundwave frequencies!” Krel exclaims before he runs out of the room.

“Keep playing music!” Eli calls out as he follows Krel.

“Yeah, I can do that,” Mary grins and holds out her phone, quickly playing pop rock music at its highest volume.

“So this _isn’t_ a troll thing?” Claire double checked with Jim as they duck into the bushes at the outdoors locker area.

“I’m tempted to say no but honestly, I have no idea,” Jim tells her and then waves over to Toby and Darci when the swarm of bugs clears out.

Their two friends army crawl to them as the bugs are still lingering. A few are rattling the trees and others are bashing dents into the lockers.

Darci checks one arm in horror, “Oh Guillermo, I think one of them bite me. Jim, please tell me your mom can help me, please!”

“One, I don’t see any immediate irritation or swelling,” Jim reassures, “and two, my mom is out of town.”

“Helping his Uncle Kan and cousin Draal,” Toby unnecessarily adds in half truths. “Some metaphoric volcano thing going on or whatever, no big deal, we weren’t invited.”

Claire shakes her head, trying to focus on the main problem here.

Magic for some reason hasn’t been working in their favor. The protection charm bracelets function by warning off hostiles within its limitations. Before Jim could perform elemental magic, Darci ran to them for safety in numbers and there hasn’t been a real chance for Jim to do anything offensive.

Besides, any time they swatted the beetles, they keep getting back up.

Hiding and waiting this thing out is their best course of actions at the moment and then Krel Tarron and Eli come running out of the hallway. They dash through the swarm with minimal screaming from Eli as Krel hastily opens his locker and takes out a boom box of all things.

“A boom box, wow that so retro,” Eli awed, swinging a textbook at the incoming beetles.

“Retro,” Krel asks, “as in cool and not lame?”

The bright smile on his face makes Claire realize that this has to be the first time she seen Krel smile since moving here.

The general gossip around them is about their oddball mannerism or whatnot but she knows that many questions are raised about the skin tone difference. That part makes Claire’s own skin crawl and stomach queasy.

The whole nonsense about only skin color permanently defining culture is one thing but to invalidate a person because of it is something Claire cannot stand. Then for her case, to be brushed aside at first glance or even doubted about her heritage is something that both infuriates her and makes her feels more insecure. It’s always an uneasy feeling to know she’s light skinned or even white-passing compared to her other family members.

Krel and Aja Tarron might be going through different experiences of racism and from the responses Claire has heard, they’re surprisingly mature and indifferent about it. Like they don’t ever give the rude criticism any tolerance or power as they just go along with their day. It’s almost relieving to hear how their grandpa loudly, and albeit violently, say he’ll protect Aja and Krel. Kind of weird the senior yelled that in the middle of a park though.

Back in the present, it looks like Krel has everything handled.

“You guys are seeing this too right?” Toby askes as Krel fiddles with the buttons and proceeds to raise it up with all of his might.

The familiar beats of Papa Skull pulsate from the speakers and the swarm pauses in their flight. As the music’s volume increases, the beetles begin to vibrate violently until each and every one just explodes into sparkles.

Gross, as some of it lands on Claire and her friends.

They all voice their disgusts, getting out of the bushes now that the coast is clear.

“Hi guys,” Eli waves politely.

Krel on the other hand spares no time and runs back into the school, “Come on, Pepperjack, the others are still in trouble.”

They all follow the boy with the boom box. Any stray beetle explodes as they run pass them and toward the cafeteria where Aja, Steve, and Mary are preoccupied with the largest number of beetles Claire as ever seen.

The moment Krel reaches the middle of the room, the beetles explode.

Wow, Claire thinks, this has to be the second strangest thing she has ever witnessed. Nothing will ever beat her and Toby walking into Jim’s kitchen where he was eating the blender, by the way.

With all the shenanigans of learning about trolls and changelings and finally having her baby brother back into her arms, she thought maybe she’ll get used to it. Nope, apparently not as she and Toby learn about troll assassins, Jim’s birth dad being a villain, Kanjigar going on a quest for stones, and now beetles that can only be defeated with the power of music.

It was really strange and confusing as the students explain this to Principal Rivera who just ends the school day here and they walked out of the school’s entrance.

“Krel, you saved the day,” Jim patted the boy’s shoulders, “thank you.”

The Trollhunter kids haven’t had much interaction with Krel as much as with Aja due to the Spring Fling events but now up close, it’s really obvious how new they both are.

Krel is blinking rapidly at Jim and the comforting hand while besides him is Aja, grinning ear to ear to see this friendly chat for her brother.

“I had to do something,” Krel said, “my sister was running into danger with the Palchuk and then the Wang walked in with the solution.”

“So what you’re saying is that I,” Mary fluttered her eye lashes and smiling sweetly, “am the savior of today?”

“Boo,” Darci booed, “I’m the one who tried calling you in the first place.”

“I’m in favor of Darci being the savior,” Toby grinned and did jazz hands in Darci’s direction.

He’s been like this all week, something about how with Jim nominated, Toby could be introduced to Darci now that their social circles crossed. Honestly he could have talked to her at any previous point in their school year but Claire just blames the hype around Spring Fling. At least he didn’t go around asking every girl in school to go with him to the dance.

Now that she thinks about it, Jim hasn’t made any implication on asking anyone to be his date. That thought is now sticking to the forefront of Claire’s mind as the conversations diverges off.

“Wait, hold up,” Steve jabbed a thumb to his chest, “I’m the one who gathered the bugs into the cafeteria.”

“Where you and the Pepperjack proceeded to antagonize the skel,” Krel coughed abruptly and continued, “the beetles. That did not help the situation in any way.”

As Steve huffed up his posture in to his bully image, Aja stood in his way with a hand pushing him back, “Your efforts are admirable, Steve Palchuk, but my brother is correct. We both should’ve known better than to just attack wildly.”

It’s almost familiar to see the aggressive testosterone just shed off of Steve, just like when Claire hanged out with him at the Papa Skull concert.

He almost looks sheepish as he shrugs off Aja’s hand and crosses his arms with a muttered, “Whatever.”

Eli gains everyone’s attention as he loudly proclaims, “Well the good news is that the bugs are gone!”

Claire wishes that shouldn’t be the best new she heard all day but it is because later that night she learns about news that are very perplexing.

The day ends as usual, just doing homework at Toby’s house as Jim’s staying with him while Barbara, Kanjigar, and Draal are off doing the quest the kids were denied to join.

It would have been really cool to meet a troll that is also a volcano.

But no, Barbara’s a responsible adult and stopped the trolls from casually letting the kids join. At least today was an adventure in itself.

Her thoughts are interrupted as Not-Enrique knocks on her bedroom window.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” she said casually as she lets him in. “Strickler misses his roommate.”

“That’s a terrible lie but I applaud you on the delivery. Your big eyes and guilt tripping tone really sells it,” the changeling lectures, “but that’s not why I’m here. Look I met someone and, okay what’s with that look?”

Claire had her mouth a gap in a mixture of shock, confusion, and curiosity. “Oh, I’m just not sure what you mean. Like you met someone dateable or you, who are paranoid of everyone, left Trollmarket when this Angor Rot is out here under Sturges Senior’s orders and he probably doesn’t like you.”

Not-Enrique shook his head, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly at the mentioned director. “That’s a given but on the contraire the guy I met,” he blinked as he distantly recalls, “huh, he did call me cute.”

“N-E,” Claire poked him with her pencil, “you’re point?”

He snapped out of it with a harsh shake of his head, “Right, we got talking and I thought I’d warn him about old Rotten because the info I gathered the director is also interested in creatures outside of troll history.”

“The guy you meet up with is not a troll,” Claire processed as she remembered the books of Grandma Cynthia Lake. She did travel the globe and met with magical creatures. “Shouldn’t you have told Kanjigar or Dr. Lake before they left? Or Vendel, he would know what to do with this. Not-Enrique, why are you telling me?”

The changeling stood up right and gave her the most serious look ever, “I trust you, Sis, and I’m entrusting you because right now I still don’t trust anyone in Trollmarket. So I trust you and if you still want to tell Vendel or anyone else, then I’ll still trust you because I know you’re smart.”

Claire honestly doesn’t know what to say. She spent a really long time just hating the changeling’s existence for replacing her brother and being an outright pain in the ass but after the Killahead Bridge battle, they finally cooled down to a steady friendship. Then with the rescue of Enrique, the changeling is seen in a different light now.

He gave up so much for Claire to have Enrique back and still, Claire doesn’t know how she deserved his kindness.

But now he’s here, saying all of this and more for some dangerous threat she cannot phantom.

“Tell me what’s going on,” she finally says.

He clicks his tongue, “See that’s a bit of the part I trust you on. I don’t have the full story because it’s not his secret to tell. All I know is that he, Stuey, is not human and neither is this royal family that’s taking refuge in town.”

“What?”

“The director might be after them but also enemies of the crown as well. Stuey knows that they’re in danger but he wouldn’t tell me their identities because it would be safer that way. If you or Jim or hell, the Trollhunter finds them then Angor Rot will find the trail. Just look at what happened to Stricklander!”

The worrying thought ‘what would happen to me?’ is implied through the terror in Not-Enrique’s eyes.

Instead he says, “I don’t want Stuey to get hurt for just being close to me. I can’t imagine what’s going on for the royal family to end up here but from the look on Stuey’s face, it’s something bad.”

Claire tapped her chin, “So there’s a big target hiding in Arcadia the same time Sturges and Angor Rot are here. Yeah that does not sound good. Then actively searching for the royals will expose them to the Janus Order but if they already know about it then adding in the Trollhunter will further provoke the Order into action.” She grimaced as she concluded, “We can’t do much to help them, other than doing nothing.”

“I’d suggested to Stuey to tell the family about Kanjigar but he refused. The royals and their guardian are really tight lipped about their identities. Like I said, it’s their secret to tell on their own terms.”

Air is trapped in her throat as she realizes just why Not-Enrique trusts her on this fragile information.

It’s all about secrets and what better secret keeper there is than a girl questioning her sexuality and is also the daughter of an important political figure.

She still suppresses the memory of telling these intimidate thoughts to her baby brother, who at the time was a changeling. It was meant as a breath of freedom, to tell her little secret to practically the only family member that would not judge her.

Yes she has friends who are queer, Jim and Mary come to mind, and she told them at her own time about her wondering about her own sexuality. It’s just the fact that her family is pretty traditional and her mother is in the political world so Claire has to be the perfect daughter, and it hurts that both of her parents are more focused on their jobs and image than to spend time with her.

All of these flash in her mind for just mere seconds as she tells him, “This is a bit different yet similar. If any of this is exposed, a lot of people are going to get hurt.”

Not-Enrique nodded, “So what do we do?”

She thinks for a long time then decides, “Tell half-truths.”

If she can get into Kanjigar’s head about the safety of non-trolls and non-humans, maybe that’ll kick start a better plan from him or Vendel. Then from Not-Enrique, he can get his friend and this royalty into safer living conditions.

It’s a start at the very least.

“We’re not going to tell them everything, are we?” Draal droned in exhaustion, preferring to lay prone on the floor of the gyre sphere during the ride home.

“We’ll save you the embarrassment by only telling Vendel,” Barbara reassured, half focused on the control panel. She swears, the reason it took so long to get to Gatto’s Keep is because of Kanjigar’s driving. The troll still blames faulty old gears.

The Trollhunter added to the dismay, “Although, Blinky would likely want a report on the insides of Gatto and how we escaped.”

Barbara laughed at Draal’s groan in misery. She’s so happy that she didn’t get caught up in that mess.

For her first mission with the Trollhunter it went smoothly as it could possibly be. They got the Birthstone and came out with minor injuries. Draal mentioned that his skin felt tingly but insists it’s just adrenaline fading away.

At the controls, Barbara still needs Kanjigar’s assistance due to the troll sized levers as they make sharp turns down the tunnel system.

“I think I really needed this Kanjigar,” she said, “thanks for making me go.”

“Not at all, I knew there was likelihood that Gatto would give us a fight so I believed it was the perfect way for you to release all of your anger about your ex.”

She’s about to retort about his bluntness but remembered that she did go a little overboard with launching hospitable jello down the volcano’s gullet. The guards also had their fair share of Barbara’s levitation spells.

“I never planned on seeing James ever again,” she admitted, “and now knowing who he really is, I’m just mad and hurt all over again.” Her grip on the control gears tightened, “He went after Walt and now there’s an assassin after you. James just hurts people for me to take care of, doesn’t he?”

Maybe this all could’ve been avoided if she left him the moment he showed his true colors, way back when she told him about the pregnancy.

It felt so numbing to hear him accuse of her on cheating. That should’ve been her first sign to leave him but she didn’t.

They were so happy together and Barbara was looking forward to starting a family but also terrified at the same time. That brief moment when they separated was devastating. Barbara was preparing to raise her first child alone until James came back to her.

Her relief overweighed any other logic, she needed someone to be with her at this time and James was it even though he no longer held any love for her or Jim. For five years she let herself be tricked by the mask James wore to keep up the image of a happy family for her son.

Why did she trust James to ever truly love them?

“Um Barbara, I think you missed a turn,” Kanjigar said, fiddling with his side of the controls.

“Oops, got lost in thought.”

“I can’t fault you for that. I imagine this is a trialing time but we’re all here for you,” he reassured.

Barbara nodded, “Thanks Kanjigar, you have no idea how much I needed to hear that.”

With a calmer mind, Barbara knows if or when she sees James again, he’ll know exactly who her new family is.

The air of Trollmarket isn’t exactly calm but not stressed out either.

It’s an unsatisfied medium, Blinky concludes on as the Trollhunter, Lady Lake, and the Chief in Security are away to have an audience with Gatto. It would only take a few days of travel but in that time Vendel has appointed Blinky to oversee the troubles of the community.

In other words, Blinky shrunk Jim yesterday to handle a gnome problem. It went fine, ignoring how Jim was nearly lost in the cavern system but at least Blinky was correct about the estimated time of the furgulator’s effect.

Next were strategies with Strickler that Blinky was honestly horrified to learn about the many Janus Order bases located around the globe. He really doesn’t know a thing about changeling, no one does. Strickler includes himself as he remembers his predicament.

Without any real answers, it’s only guesses as they discuss about Director James Sturges.

The evidence of the marriage with Barbara, estrangement with Jim, walking out on them, claiming the ring of Angor Rot, attacking an imprisoned Strickler, all of it points to Sturges being a piece of shit.

That’s not the most poetic way for Blinky to phrase it but it’s accurate.

In the end, the three heroes return from Gatto’s Keep with minor burns and the foretold Birthstone of Gunmar within the amulet.

The briefing is rather short due to their exhaustion but all sounds well. Well, aside from the part where Kanjigar and Draal were swallowed whole and had the unfortunate exit of a volcano’s rear end.

Barbara left posthaste, eager to return home. She did say a warm goodbye to everyone, even Strickler. It’s nice to see them beginning to patch things together.

“Should I be supporting them?” Blinky asks Aaarrrgghh as they entered their den, “Strickler has shown great remorse for his actions. There’s still some awkwardness between him and Lady Barbara. ”

“Patience,” Aaarrrgghh said, “heal with time.”

“Now I know you’re speaking from experience,” Blinky pats his mate’s cheek lovingly.

Aaarrrgghh’s integration into Trollmarket was an adventure in its own right as the Krubera turned against the Gumm-gumm King. At that time no troll in their right mind would be a traitor and live to tell the tale about it.

But in the end Aaarrrgghh survived it. He saw the error of his way and joined Deya at the Battle of Killahead Bridge and once more for Kanjigar and Lady Barbara in the present.

Now Blinky is a historian first and a warrior third. He believed that was all he was ever going to be until somewhere between all of this, he and Aaarrrgghh became each other’s most trusted friend and beloved mate.

Their lives just keep getting harsher or stranger as Bular terrorized the surface and now it is the leader of the changeling’s turn. So Blinky and Aaarrrgghh must help the Trollhunter and the descendant of the Lady of the Lake as much as they can.

Their children included of course and how sweet and amazing each one of them is. Sure they often get in trouble but it’s nothing the adults can handle right?

The next morning there are screams in Trollmarket about a nude human running around that sounds oddly like Draal.

Oh Deya, please send help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup, I'm back. I'm probably gonna take another break in posting again in the future, just a head's up. 
> 
> Anyway, writing Aja and Krel is fun. I wanted to add more to Aja's background on sneaking away from the palace and work on how that plays into her regrets and responsibilities. Like, she must of have gotten some sort of secret identities thing with friends right?
> 
> Meanwhile I give Claire a lot of self indulgence with the topics I really wanted to explore with her. Her experiences of being light skinned parallels with themes in Netflix's One Day at a Time. I really got into that show when writing this chapter I think. Along with that is Claire's conflict on questing her sexuality while knowing it'll won't go over well with her family. 
> 
> Oh and she has an idea about the royals in town, just gonna slide that in now that's on her radar.
> 
> For Barbara, again I broke my heart because everything James breaks, it's Barbara who's left with the pieces. She's the doctor, she supposed to fix things yet how will she fix herself? Either way, it'll take time. 
> 
> Blinky, oh man, for the little I write for him, it's always a good time. 
> 
> And of course it's gonna be Draal's Day Out!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	6. Hi Hideous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skin: Flesh  
Everyone: Confused  
Draal's Day: Out

Aaarrrgghh is a troll of few words but not out of nature but of nurture.

Being raised to be Gunmar’s top general is not something to take pride in. It costed Aaarrrgghh of his birth culture, a caring pack, language and education, even morals or manners. All of it made him into a weapon used against the innocent or anyone who defied the Gumm-gumms.

It was horrible and shameful and only after years of being with Blinky made Aaarrrgghh stand back up and start to heal. Trolls like Vendel and Kanjigar and also Deya, no matter how short their time together was, helped Aaarrrgghh become the troll he is today.

Still though, Aaarrrgghh cannot find his tongue to speak his confusion as it appears that Draal the Deadly has transformed overnight into a human being.

How odd.

“I believe Gatto is to blame,” Vendel said, examining Draal’s fleshy arm stub.

Regardless of any magic, Draal is still without a right arm and the metal prosthetic no longer fits him. It’s actually the obvious truth that this really is Draal and not some changeling mimicking the voice.

They’re all gathered in Vendel’s Heartstone room waiting for the real humans to arrive. From the phone call, Barbara was suppressing a laugh.

“This can’t be happening,” Draal groaned, constantly plucking at his face and tugging at the newfound hair. “Father, please tell me this isn’t happening.”

Kanjigar has been speechless since the revelation that this is his son, the one who he raised from their old land’s birthstone, is now a human. He manages to say, “I am so, so, _so_ happy I have the amulet.”

“Father!” Draal scolded, clearly annoyed rather than any sort of jealous or anger that once took over him.

“This is unheard of,” Blinky begins and Aaarrrgghh had to dissuade him from asking Draal uncomfortable questions. Still, Blinky ends up speaking his thoughts, “Or nothing compares to this. There have been many recorded experiments and mishaps of species changing in attempt to copy changelings’ magic but all have ended in some sort of failure. Draal’s predicament is too good to be true. Now are you sure you feel completely human?”

“Yes,” Draal growled, pounding his squishy stomach. “I feel utterly different.”

Aaarrrgghh did a little poke at the human’s shoulder. Indeed it was soft and fleshy. Then he sniffed into Draal’s pale blond hair, “Still smells Draal.”

“Thank Deya for that,” he agreed.

But it’s not really the same. Aaarrrgghh knows from experience the differences between human and troll. It has been many years but the horrific echoes of human victims are still somewhere in his head, reminding Aaarrrgghh on how vulnerable everyone else is.

After breaking off his pacifistic oath, Draal became his sparring partner and even a seasoned warrior as the Deadly One cannot defeat Aaarrrgghh who is out of his prime state.

Now seeing Draal with flesh and bones makes Aaarrrgghh’s teeth rattle. He can easily beat down Draal as a troll. It would be scary on how effortless a fight with a human Draal would be.

Just more proof for Aaarrrgghh to doubt his place here.

It took so much self-control to even take the path of pacifism and yes it was a wise decision to prioritize his pack’s safety but what if his own strength is the real threat here?

Aaarrrgghh backs away from Draal, feeling too big next to the defenseless human. His mate instinctively reaches out to him with one of his four arms and Aaarrrgghh holds it, squeezing tightly as he tries to push these thoughts away.

While Vendel and Kanjigar are busy observing Draal, Blinky gives Aaarrrgghh a calming cheek nuzzle. It’s not the first time Aaarrrgghh has a moment of great stress and fear so having Blinky ground him before the storming thoughts overwhelm him is an absolute blessing.

“So this really is happening,” Strickler says as he walks in carrying a box. His wings are still bandaged as he carefully folds them to move past the others to hand the contents over. “Draal, these should fit you.”

“A shirt,” he huffed with little amusement.

Strickler rubbed his forehead, “Please, put on the clothes.”

“Aaarrrgghh gets to not wear clothes!”

Aaarrrgghh blinked and looked to the other trolls and their trousers. He shrugged. It’s just not his preference.

“Son, it’s for modesty’s sake.”

Before Draal could further complain, three human children come running in followed by the Lady Lake.

Toby’s words are rushed, “It is true? Is Draal really- OH MY GUILLERMO HE’S NAKED!”

From Claire, she discreetly said between gritted teeth, “He’s, um, he’s really buff.”

As for Jim, well, there’s a high pitch noise emitting from his throat.

The Trollhunter gave his son another knowing look, “See, modesty’s sake.”

“This is why you don’t run into things,” Barbara lectures the kids as each one of them are red faced and covering their eyes. “Okay everyone, doctor’s here.” She does a check up on the new human, both medical and magical inspections and tells the room, “Congratulations, it’s a healthy boy!”

Draal rolls his eyes, tugging on the edges of his shirtsleeves, “This will wear off, right?”

“At this point, inconclusive but hopefully yes.”

“Should we work on a cure, Lady Lake?” Vendel asks.

“I wouldn’t know where to even start,” she said and turned to Strickler who shook his head. “Well if it’s not related to changeling magic then maybe its transmutation.”

“Ah, DND terminology,” Toby elbowed Jim, “now we’re getting somewhere.”

Jim had an unhopeful cringe, “Maybe we shouldn’t force it, just to be safe.”

There’s small tremor as the boy says that and Aaarrrgghh lays a heavy hand on Jim’s head to give a reassuring pat, “Patience.”

His beloved crossed his four arms with a thoughtful look, “Hmm, maybe that is wisest thing to do. We don’t know what in the volcanic stomach caused this.”

“But we’ll look into it Draal,” Barbara said as the Elder troll nodded, already gathering ingredients. 

In the midst of this, Draal was given a mirror. Again he’s just mushing his face around with his mouth wide open to see his new teeth, “I’m hideous.”

“Hi Hideous, I’m Barbara,” she introduced with a wide grin. She points that sharp smile to the Trollhunter, “Take that Kanjigar!”

She and Jim high five as Kanjigar groans in misery.

“So you got your axe?”

“Yes Father.”

“What about your helmet, your very first one? I think it’ll fit you now that your head’s the size of a newborn.”

“Yes Father, it’s in a box, I think.”

“What about underwear? Barbara said that’s important.”

“Yes Father!” Draal yells a little too loudly, covering his face in shame. “Your concerns over subjective matters are a bit unnecessary.”

“Unnecessary?” Kanjigar balks and waves around them, “You my son turned into a human and are about to step into sunlight! The only thing that’s stopping me from making you stay here is that Barbara promised to watch over you during this event.”

The Lady Lake has just finished the opening arc with the horngazel and the blinding light of the outside world is revealed. She corrects them, “Actually I said that Draal could stay with Jim and I during this human period. This is his real chance to explore Arcadia like never before.”

Scaling the crystal staircase, Jim carries one of the boxes full of Draal’s weapons. Travel sized of course.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be great! Wait,” Jim suddenly stops to think, Toby and Claire cooperating on carrying another box almost bump into him. “Oh sorry, guys. Anyway, um, Draal since you’re completely human, doesn’t that mean you can’t eat metals anymore?”

Draal blinked, once again fiddling with his fingers. The soft and smooth texture is foreign enough but to rethink about how his insides are filled with organs is unsettling to consider.

Oh Deya, he can’t eat bicycles anymore!

“Hey don’t worry. Chef Jimbo will impress your new taste buds,” Toby promised as he and Claire finally lower down their box outside. “Oh, hey, we can get you a burrito!”

“Kanjigar,” Claire walks over to his side, smiling politely to his father, “Draal will be alright with us. We got his back. In the meantime, we know that you’re doing everything you can to protect humans, trolls, and other magical creatures.”

She says that with great passion that impresses Draal. At first he thought of the girl wouldn’t want to be more involved with the kin that almost denied her the chance to rescue her brother but now she’s here, broadening his and the Trollhunter’s views.

Kanjigar returns a grateful smile, “Yes indeed, Young Claire. I have already had many discussions with Strickler on this matter and more.” He turns to Draal with his next words, “There is always the possibility of changelings turning against the Janus Order and I will promise them safety as best as I can.”

“You would?” Draal softly utters, imagining the day when he could proudly have a courting ritual with Nomura with the rest of their kin present. Of course Nomura needs to be out of the Darklands by then but a troll can dream.

A firm nod and confident smile from his father is all it took to wash away the fear Draal once had.

Of all the things Draal wanted his father’s approval on, it shouldn’t be his love life. Draal knows of Kanjigar’s opinion of Draal’s obsession on the amulet, a cry for attention is all that is but now it’s been conversed to its peaceful end.

Although he still can’t help but wonder who the next Trollhunter will ever be.

But on this particular case with Draal’s relationship with Nomura, it’s one of the good things in his life that is entirely made of his own choices or accidents or actions that created their bond.

Yet the lingering despair about the Trollhunter’s and Trollmarket’s view on changelings from the war and beyond brought a distance between him and Nomura.

Now it’s different, there are changelings in the market and one of them is Draal’s brother figure. Kanjigar’s own thoughts are laid out in plain sight as he parts him and the others one last smile goodbye as they walk further into the sun.

Barbara loaded up her car with all of Draal’s stuff and sends the kids to take Draal into town as she leaves for work. It’s utterly strange and outright spooky as they wander around town, filled with other humans that pay him no mind. His body feels so small compared to the trolls but walking amongst other people with skin is a new world.

Oh and how polarizing it feels to have a constant heat on his skin, flesh and tannish and squishy with hair, it’s just weird in general. The transformation part thankfully happened in his sleep but there’s lingering aches that catches Draal off his guard.

Draal can’t help but raise his hand to his chest. There is a steady rhythm of a heart, _his human heart_, and feeling and hearing that beat is the only proof that this is all real.

The first time he ever felt a heartbeat was when Nomura trusted him to feel hers.

His hand moves over to rub at the remainder of his right arm.

Things have certainly changed.

“Mom can arrange something and get you a new arm,” Jim said, making Draal looked away from fast cars driving past them.

They’re almost to the central park, taking the scenic route of stores and crosswalks.

“I’m good for now,” Draal said as they looked at the bandaged stub, “It may sound odd but seeing this gives me more sense of control over my situation. Regardless of skin or magic, my choices and consequences are permanent. I supposed I did provoke Bular but I didn’t really see him as him. I just saw another version of myself.”

“That’s,” Jim tutted his tongue in thought, “poetic and intense. Now you’re literally a different version of yourself.”

“Ha yeah,” he chuckled and then asked, “Is this how you felt when you shift? Feel every difference but can’t exactly explain it all.”

“And you’ve never asked or expected any of this,” the boy added with an undertone of bitterness.

Maybe he shouldn’t dive into this topic. After all, Draal’s shift was an accident while Jim’s is destiny.

This is the world Jim wants to walk in and was unknowingly a part of a much larger and stranger world. Or more accurately, Jim sees himself as the biggest unknown to both worlds.

Draal is only on borrowed undetermined time in this new body but he too feels out of place. He doesn’t belong here. So how must that feeling compare to how Jim Lake’s duality pulls him to either life?

“Yes to the both of those things,” Draal placed his only hand on Jim’s shoulder, “All the more reason to gain control of our lives. Destiny or magic will always interfere in whatever fashion but we are not helpless. I know for sure I’ll be a troll once more. As for you, what are you sure about?”

Jim hesitated, staring at his hands as if expecting or remembering something bad, “I can’t pick one world over the other, no matter how much I want to. My destiny and bloodline, I’m sure it’s tided together. There’s a reason I’m the way I am but I don’t care about it.”

“Powerful words,” Draal warned, “I didn’t think of you to be that bold.”

“Yeah,” he nodded with a faint smile, “I want to be me.”

Draal scuffed up Jim’s hair, “You’re already are just as I’m still me.”

Up ahead, Claire and Toby were already at the doors to the place Draal wanted to see most.

Toby called over, “Are you two finished? If you end up doing a monologue the museum is gonna close by the time you’re done.”

“Wait a mekron, you two is only spending your timetable with us for a graded assignment?” Krel crossed his currently two human arms over the other and frowned deeply at Aja’s companions.

The Darci Scott had the decency to wince and scratched her cheek, “Well when you put it that way it sounds bad.”

“Because it is bad.”

The Mary Wang clasped her hands together, “Please Kyle, I’m desperate for extra credit in Senior Uhl’s class.”

“That is not my name.”

Aja placed a hand on his shoulder and said calmly, “Settle down little brother, they don’t mean any harm. Besides,” she holds up the worksheet to their eyes, “Senior Uhl is the proctor and he wants us to learn about Arcadia’s history with them as our guides.”

“Yeah, the museum will be fun,” Darci said.

“And it won’t take too long,” Mary held up her closed fist with the thumb up. Aja copied the gesture, overjoyed at the success.

Krel rolled his eyes, “For the three of you. You only have me here as an obligation.” He pointed to his sister, “She’s your dear companion.”

It will always be like this, won’t it?

Even back home Aja had a plethora of platonic connections. Or in layman’s terms, Aja easily made friends while Krel just preferred to make gadgets and other machineries.

Krel doesn’t want to be left behind again. He knows Aja only leaves home for her own joy, not out of any malice towards the family, but the palace can get lonely.

Here on Earth, after loads of sheer awkwardness or lack of context, Aja is popular, nominated to be a faux queen, and still someone Krel doesn’t want to lose her to this world or to General Morando and whatever he concocts for them.

Paranoia from Stuart has raised the possibilities of bounty hunters but also earthly threats. Varvatos Vex eagerly awaits any deadly battle but until then, Aja and Krel continue their daily human life.

Today’s human activity is going to the museum, requested by Senior Uhl and Principal Rivera, so that the Tarrons learn more about Arcadia Oaks.

Krel is not looking forward to any of this.

The girls won’t even take this serious because once inside they are immediately distracted by not a relic or art piece but of one of the patrons.

“Claire, hey, really cool to see you here too,” Mary grinned, pulling Claire away from her group. Her eyes never leaving Claire’s tall companion as she whispers, “Who’s the Dorito?”

Darci gaps too, “He looks like a young Captain America.

On Claire’s other arm, Aja nudges, “Did he lose his arm in grand combat?”

“Aja,” Darci frowned, “you can’t just ask that. So many people asked my dad about his leg to the point where he wears jeans in the summer.”

When Claire Nunez made eye contact with him, waiting for any comment, all Krel stated is, “I would apologize for their pestering but that would mean I take responsibility over them. I do not.”

Claire just inhaled through her nose, likely calming herself down and called over, “Everyone, this is Draal.”

“Wait like, Jim’s cousin Draal?” Darci asked.

“Oh is that a nickname, like drawl?” Mary shook Claire’s arm, “Don’t tell me, he’s an art major in college!”

Before Claire could confirm or deny that, Mary went over to latch onto Jim Lake for answers.

The poor boy’s bewildered look was quite hilarious according to Aja’s giddy face but Krel has no patience for this rambling. He moved over to the closest museum artifact to start the arbitrary assignment of just recollecting data.

As Krel fills in the sheet, he doesn’t notice the person who’s got everyone talking stand next to him.

“Are humans always like this?” This cousin of Jim Lake, Draal, mutters to himself. Somewhere behind them is the remainder of their groups still gossiping about Dorito chips and captains?

Krel still doesn’t pay him any mind as he tries to answer an assignment question about the sympathy meaning of the art piece. Thankfully Aja joins him as he asks, “Sister, how does this mural of ancient northern warriors make you feel?”

She tilts her head to further examine the large artwork of a series of armored people wielding old fashion swords and shields. Unlike the usual metal armor from the upstairs exhibit, the ground level is dedicated the floor for relics of this Viking age.

“What kind of warrior name is Hiccup?” Aja queried at the little plat titling the piece and its chief.

“And where are the dragons?” Draal inspected the piece, “There’s nary a spot of paint for them. Of all of the redactions to happen I surely thought those beasts would be hard to ignore. Then again the only ones around are really territorial and they’re already hard to come by.”

The siblings looked at each other and shrugged. Perhaps a dragon is an endangered species like those mosquitos Stuart talks about.

“Well regardless of your unasked critiques,” Krel told the tall human whose likely Varvatos’ ideal human body, “I still don’t have any particular emotional attachments to answer this empathic question.”

He expected the usual annoyed expression people get from the blunt words but instead, Draal rubbed his chin with his only hand and gazed at the painting with great concentration.

“This is a post battle painting, one of victory on their side but still shows evidence of loss,” Draal gestured to the damaged forest on one side and then to the crashing waves on the other. “The warriors are painted in the front lines but you can see the civilians near the back, protected but not blind to the reality of war.”

Behind them again, Mary brags, “What I tell yah, art major.”

Aja took a closer look and her voice goes soft, “They lost their home, didn’t they? I don’t see any shelters and they’re all gazing to one direction, seeing something faraway that meant so much to them.”

Unconsciously, Krel reached over to hold his sister’s hand.

“That’s a deep revelation,” he couldn’t help but say, gulping down the lingering taste of ash and smoke. Memories of the loud noises of the bomb raids and the rocky flight with Zadra resurface without his permission and it takes a while for Krel to will it away. “I’ll um, write this down later. Come on Aja, let’s go to another piece.”

He starts to walk Aja to a random direction but she doesn’t move. Her voice is still distant, “You go ahead, little brother.”

That’s the same tone she used on their second day on Earth, when she didn’t want to leave Mama’s and Papa’s pods. Although this time there’s a shine in her eyes, her mind is racing about something and Krel doesn’t want to interrupt that.

She’s looking like her old self again and while Krel isn’t pleased that it is this new environment that’s helping her, he knows that immersion therapy, an inaccurate term maybe, is the best course of action for his sister. Aja needs stimulation or constant movement because Krel never wants to see his sister void of emotion ever again.

All that’s missing is a direction for her focus.

He’ll let her decided what that is.

Krel walks away from the crowding group of Aja’s friends to head over to the other exhibit pieces. Well that was the plan until he spies a smaller body keenly watching him.

Once caught in his staring, the small boy hides behind a weapons rack display. Between the lances and javelins, Eli Pepperjack yelps as Krel approaches him.

“Hello Pepperjack,” Krel politely begins, wary of Eli’s jittery nature.

Immediately, words just fall out of Eli’s mouth, “We aren’t following you! No that’s crazy. Just a crazy accusation, Krel!”

“What?”

Logic has not found Eli yet as he continues, “How do I know that you’re the one following me? Ha, checkmate.” He tries to stand confidently with his arms crossed but somehow he still stumbles in place.

Krel blinks and over Eli’s shoulder, he sees Steve Palchuk not too far away. The blond has currently slapped his forehead with his palm.

“I did not think any of that at any point, what so ever,” Krel said and he can literally see Eli’s misery kicking himself in the boy’s eyes. “So you and your Palchuk are following me,” Krel took a step forward to physically intimidate Eli, a tactic stolen from Varvatos Vex.

The boy squeaked and next thing Krel knows, Steve is at Eli’s side and shoving Krel away, albeit gentler than the food truck incident.

“Look Tarron, we just want to talk,” Steve said, surprisingly composed and with a nary of aggression.

He was absolutely ready to say no but Eli has a new look in his eyes, one of determination.

That’s interesting.

“Alright, fine,” Krel agreed, “but on the condition that the Palchuk completes this worksheet.”

Steve is very much appalled much to Krel’s amusement, “You’re telling _me_ to do _your_ homework?”

“He’ll do it,” Eli states and gives Steve a knowing look. Again Krel is surprised that the blond grumbles off, wrinkling the given paper without another complaint.

“Eli Pepperjack,” Krel formally says and keeps his face neutral, “to what do I owe the pleasure of your stalking?”

He frowns deeply with regret, “Okay that’s bad and we’re sorry and we won’t do it again. I just need to know what you know about Stuart.”

That’s the last thing Krel honestly expected, to that he took a step back in wariness and a little bit of fear, “He’s just the electronics personnel. I frequent his store from time to time.”

For the love of Mother, if Stuart is the one to blow all of their covers Krel is going to send Luug’s farts after the Durian. Wait, he might be unbothered by that. Better send Varvatos then.

“Do you notice anything strange about him? Like he knows more about Arcadia than he lets on?”

“Well considering he’s been here significantly more than me, yes,” Krel chose his words carefully and then narrowed his eyes at Eli. He pressed on, “As do you, do you know something?”

“What?” Eli shutters now that the tables are indeed turning.

Krel doesn’t give Eli a chance to speak, “That night in the alleyway, we did hear the strangest noise outside but Stuart insists we wait it out. Imagine our surprise to see you and the Palchuk covered in weird grime and holding clubs.”

“Um baseball bats,” Eli nervously corrects.

“Yes whatever now tell me Eli Pepperjack,” Krel said, needing to know how much of a threat this human is, “why do you seek out knowledge? Is it for the sake of satisfying curiosity or to be glorified as a discoverer?”

Despite the growing nervousness, Eli calms himself enough to say, “Krel, there are truths out there and I know that I can’t bring them all into the light. I want to know more because I know for sure there is more to this world than it shows.” The determination is back in his eyes and Krel is almost confused when Eli smiles brightly, “If we learn more, Steve and I can protect Arcadia better. It might sound stupid that the fate of the world is up to us but we’re stepping up. Someone has too.”

Eli sounds a lot like the heroic stories Mama and Papa tells them.

“Wow,” Krel softly utters. He quickly recovers with a cough, refocusing their conversation, “Eli, I don’t think I have the answers you want and if I do then I still won’t to tell you.” The tension and anxiety finally leaves Krel as he admits, “But the path you’re taking is admirable. You’re really quite something.”

“Really?” Eli beams.

“Truly,” Krel nods then points over to their group of friends, “Also I think your Palchuk needs help right now.”

Somehow during all of this, Steve tried talking to Aja who was still with Draal. Dots were connected and Draal found out that Steve is known as a bully. Specifically, Steve was or is still presently Jim’s bully.

“So you’re Steve Palchuk,” Draal said eerily calm, “I heard you’re a real good puncher.”

“Um, uh,” the blond gaggles, “I’ve stopped?”

“Was that a justification or a question?” Draal certainly is as intimidating as Varvatos and all he’s doing is standing over Steve. “I wonder if you actually ever apologized. Then again, if I ever see the one who cut my arm off, I wouldn’t be too forgiving.”

Krel didn’t know a human’s face could turn so pale.

Anyway, Steve proclaims a hastily said apology to Jim Lake, still bewildered over this turn of events, and then he ran over to Krel and Eli.

“Tarron, sorry, sorry,” Steve rushes and shoves the completed worksheet into the Akiridon’s hands. “Pepper-buddy, I’m so sorry for being crappy, let’s get out of here.”

With that, the two boys are out of the museum.

Eli casts Krel one last wave goodbye which he returns.

Hmm, that boy is quite something, Krel thinks, but still a threat.

Better keep an eye on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been meaning to give some screen time for Aaarrrgghh but like, everyone else's shenanigans have been dominating the narrative. I wanted to put more weight into Aaarrrgghh's pacifism and how he still scared of his own power. 
> 
> Then for Draal, he joins Jim's boat of body issues. This is like a weird thing to bond over, they both experience something life alternating and important to them. 
> 
> As For Krel, he's like so salty at everyone but his sister. Well, sometimes at her too. I just really wanted to kick off his friendship with Eli. 
> 
> Also I couldn't help but view Draal as Captain America-ish, poke fun at Mary's love for art majors, and tie in the How To Train Your Dragon. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. One Shared Weakness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The quest for the triumphic stones continue with the legendary shatter king.

Angor Rot didn’t mean for this bit of information to slip out but it did and seeing the look on the Trollhunter’s face was definitely worth it.

It happened on the third time the assassin trailed after the boy, the one the Trollhunter is knowledgeable enough to guard.

The boy was blissfully unaware as he and his companions wandered around and had the foolish idea to go hike to the cliff view of the town nearing sunset.

Perhaps it was also foolish for Angor to attempt a course of action but can he be blamed?

The answer to all his misery was right there. No more ring, no more masters, and no more emptiness.

The key to his soul was right there.

Angor Rot sent out a few blank golems to manifest in the garbage and they did an excellent job at cornering the four humans.

Of course they expectedly fought back with fallen branches or ran out of reach of the golems. Oddly, the human with one arm actually attempted to bash a fist into the shatter glass of one of the constructs. That fool instantly cried out in pain.

At least Angor could obverse the abilities of his target.

The boy of two arcana legacies performed strong maneuvers of gale forces but his energy barriers could use more work. He even casted a decent healing spell on his wounded friend. All of this magic is done with quick flashes of golden light.

Eagerness and desperation overwhelm Angor Rot.

Ah, such rash thinking will really be the death of him if he was not immortal.

The moment Angor Rot descended from shadows the Trollhunter has just emerged from the tree line.

There was little to no time to even think about using the skathe-hrun to flee as the Trollhunter lunged with his blade.

“Stay away from my sons,” the Trollhunter growled.

If he could, Angor would spare a glance at the humans and back to the troll. There is familiar pull of familial love taunting ring out in his cold body. Angor Rot puts more savagery into his swings, hitting that damn shiny armor.

He tries to lead the Trollhunter into the trap laid for the boy but the troll must know the assassin’s story all too well.

The hunter puts weight into his swings, pushing the assassin back to collide with the forest. His guard is flawless whenever Angor gets close enough, barely nicking the Trollhunter’s eyes.

When they reached the edge of the paralyzing snare, the Trollhunter must have noticed it immediately and kicked rocks to knock the rune stones out of place, ruining the spell.

“The trap’s a bit too small for me,” the Trollhunter glared. “I swear to Deya’s statue, you and James Sturges will not lay a hand on Jim Lake.”

Something bubbles in Angor’s throat and he’s so shocked with a tiny laugh escapes him. He can’t remember the last time he truly laughed or felt a semblance of joy.

That reaction aside, Angor Rot couldn’t help but say this, “You don’t know how powerful the boy is. James does.” That cruel master of his finally shows flickers of fear when he reads Otto’s reports about the Lakes. If James is paralyzed with fear then this is the perfect time for Angor to engage, “But I need him more.”

More growls emit from the Trollhunter, fiercer than ever and only a mere prologue to the bare instincts trolls have for unleashing their rage.

Kanjigar the Courageous attacks with all his might, trying to vivisect the assassin but so many other enemies have tried and all failed. He moves just like every other Trollhunter, heavy hits and reliance on the armor.

There’s always one shared weakness.

After another harsh blow distancing them, Angor Rot whistled to his constructs. The loud clunking noise of three golems morphing into one hulking mass of shattered glass towered over the humans.

“You heathen!” Kanjigar roared, already on a warpath to tackle the large golem.

It won’t take too long for the Trollhunter to defeat the creation, a perfect time to retreat to the shadows.

No mere mortal will ever understand the challenges placed against Angor Rot.

His curser told him of two ways on getting his soul back.

He could claim the Inferna Copula out of his master’s possession or trust destiny to bring him to the child of magic.

This Jim Lake, the centerpiece of monstrous magic and a leyline descendant, is the key for his soul, the Lady of many names promised.

It’s mainly luck that saves Nomura as much as she would usually deny that, but she needs it.

Luck is probably the only saving grace in the Darklands. Not even Gunmar can control it.

That old king just sits on his throne, stationed so high up to see the full arena of death as Nomura is chased after a Nyarlagroth. She’s tired and she almost lost her swords a few times but Nomura has to keep moving otherwise the changeling will be eaten alive.

Sheer skill has adrenaline guide through her arms, lashing at the weak points of the monstrous snake. The underbelly has the weakest layer of scales and her blades can easily sink into the eyes and jawline. A few times she’s able to hook her swords into its skull and blindly ride the beast into the walls.

Of course none of that satisfies the Gumm-gumm King. He wants to see her suffer.

Gunmar sends one beast after another until he’s bored of Nomura escaping death.

She’d lucky. Rubble from the battles stalls the Nyarlagroth’s path, they get pinned by boulders or Nomura knocked enough teeth in to make the snakes choke on their own swallowed fangs.

All of it is terrifying and restless and she just wants it all to stop.

By the fourth Nyarlagroth it looks likes Gunmar might send her back to her cell. That six eyed advisor of his is whispering stuff to the king and maybe it’s finally her break time.

Nomura risks a deep breath as she ducks under the beast’s leap and she’s able to cut off the very end of the tail.

It wails as it retreats into its home under the arena, lurking in shadows before the next bite.

The changeling stays to the walls, keeping an eye on all the openings, trying to feel for the knowing vibrations. So far it’s nothing but then to her horror, a familiar smoky ball beings to morph in front of her.

Nomura slashes the connection away, knowing that unprovoked move would be suspicious but there’s no other choice. There is no way in hell she’s letting Gunmar know about Draal’s calls and she’s already in hell.

She hears the Nyarlagroth burst out of a ground, creating a new opening. She starts running as fast as she can, pushing her limit to dig the talons of her feet into the walls to run up them. With a giant leap, Nomura twists in the air and dives her swords into the Nyarlagroth’s brain.

It takes digging the swords further in, turning and twisting it more to get the beast to stop squirming.

Once it’s finally over Nomura looks up to her dear king and bows. She also snuffs up a loud and wet spit in his direction too.

The gates to the cells reopen with the guards ready to escort her with harsh shoving. As this plays out she feels the intelligent gaze of Dictatious on her.

Draal’s call better be worth it if the Darklands’ advisor figures out some magic going on with her.

Luck comes in the form of perfect timing as once she’s alone in her cell, the smoky ball reforms and she sees Jim Lake.

He’s a ball of nervous energy and before she could get a word out about them _calling her in the damn middle of a fight_, Jim rambles quickly, “Okay, don’t freak out but this is Draal!”

The viewport blurs and Nomura sees a blond human with wide and broad shoulders, a flat nose, and a crooked smile that belongs to no other person but Draal.

“Hi,” he greets and that sole syllable is filled with panic.

It takes a moment for Nomura to even say anything, leaving human Draal to stew in the awkwardness as Nomura stares at him.

Eventually she asks, “Is this a prank? Like Strickler’s getting revenge and making Otto do this? Are you Otto?”

Confusion is just wracking her brain and it just hurts more than the battle wounds and exhaustion that’s making her head dizzy.

“No, it’s really me, Nomura. I um, so that diplomacy thing I mentioned. Yeah, it didn’t end very well and this,” Draal gestured with his one hand and arm stub, “happened.”

“Ah,” Nomura said and repeated, “ha ah ha!”

In the first time of a long while, Nomura laughs without any precautions.

The issue of the assassin is one that plagues Kanjigar’s mind. Both confrontations with the fiend are about Jim Lake, a child of magic was his exact words.

Oh Deya, it must be about him being a hybrid. Strickler has confirmed the rarity of them. Then again, Kanjigar doesn’t grasp the urgency of it.

Magic, it is not Kanjigar’s forte. He trusts Barbara and Vendel with that.

Kanjigar knows that Barbara and Jim can protect their selves but the presence of Angor Rot has ruined everything. They’re close to locating the next Triumbric stone but that gives Angor Rot any opening to attack when they leave Arcadia.

So there’s only one solution for this.

“I cannot believe you’re taking the human children with you,” Vendel said as they enter the gyre station.

“Well, call me overprotective but Jim’s not leaving my sight,” Barbara declared as they sent the kids to board the gyre sphere. “Angor Rot has been following my son for some reason so we’ll just take this time to put them on two different coastlines.”

Kanjigar nodded, “Also we need Duke Tobias as bait.”

“Wait what?” Barbara snapped her head at him, “Um, you didn’t tell me that.”

“Father can be like that,” Draal rolled his eyes, leaning against the entrance way.

He and Blinky are only here for farewells since the old gyre can hold so many people. That and after their last trip, Kanjigar is not so eager to be in a vehicle with his son.

Half of the reason why it took so long was because they constantly fought for the controls.

At least the gyre has been repaired by Blinky so it can go at its top speed now.

“Shatter King,” Aaarrrgghh stated, climbing aboard the gyre.

“Yes, he is Gunmar’s first kill so it is very likely within his remains is the Killstone,” Blinky theorized. “The quagawumpas are an isolated tribe that believes in reincarnation. Duke Tobias is the closest match of an impersonator who can gain their trust.”

“Did you get this idea from Walt? Disguises are not your style, Blinky.”

“He suggested it as a jest but it’s not a farfetched plan Lady Lake.”

Kanjigar still had his doubts as they enacted this heist. The Marshlands reflected its trolls in many ways, nature at its strongest, away from any other civilizations to thrive alone in their own culture, and very wary of newcomers even with the title of Trollhunter.

But Toby’s quick to jump into character and… yes, proceeds to teach the tribe human teen slang.

How wonderful.

He and Barbara shrug.

The current leader in their king’s absence is the troll Wumpa who eagerly begins ceremonial events for their returned king.

“My King,” Wumpa bows, “I present to you the festival for your return!”

In the marshland clearing is a huge fire pit surrounded by more celebrating trolls, each decorated with flora necklaces while the trees have glowing crystals jutting out. On a tree stump are a drumline of trolls already pounding a rhythmic beat and along a cliff’s wall are a buffet of rocks and plants to eat.

Ah yes, the perks on taking advantage of a people’s unwavering faith in their religion in order to take an important gemstone from their king’s shattered remains.

It’s in the name of good, Kanjigar swears.

Either way it’s a party that the Trollhunter doesn’t have the pleasure of joining. He sticks with the edges of the loudness, inspecting all the statues of their king and none appear to hold a trace of the Killstone.

As he patrols, he keeps an ear out to his companions.

“Oh man, we gotta go on more quests,” Toby danced away with his friends. “Do you think we can take a detour to Disney World too?”

“As fun as that sounds, that may be pushing it,” Claire said.

Jim spun Claire into his arms as gracefully as possibly, “We kind of got school and the Janus Order to worry about but right now, we can’t blow Toby’s cover.”

“If you dip me and I fall, I won’t forgive you,” she warned. In Jim’s hesitance, Claire took the lead and attempted to dip Jim with little flaws.

“Save those moves for the dance,” Toby teased over the music.

The sight of this calms the Trollhunter’s nerves.

There’s not many whelps since the discovery of changelings and during the wars, young trolls no bigger than a sword were taken away from the battlefield as far as possible. Now that Kanjigar thinks about it, he sees more young trolls in times of danger rather than times of joy.

Seeing Jim, Toby, and Claire happily dancing without a care is something the Trollhunter will cherish.

The drumbeat ends its song when Wumpa leads Toby onto the large stump stage, “Our King, behold your crown!”

Another troll walks on stage and carries a golden headpiece one fit for royalty.

In the centerpiece of the crown is a glowing jewel that can only be the Killstone.

Toby stared wide eyed at the crown and looked over to his friends, all frantically nodding, _yes that is it, don’t mess this up please._

“Awesome-sauce,” Toby cheered.

There was a tense beat of silence as Wumpa and all the other trolls stared at their king.

Then they repeated, twice as much glee, “Awesome-sauce!”

Besides Kanjigar, Barbara took a big breath in relief as the Trollhunter laughed at that close call.

Wumpa said more praise and gratitude for their king’s reincarnation as Toby knelt to be properly crowned.

Right before the crown touched Toby’s brown hair, something fell from the treetops.

The pale troll of horrors has landed in the center of the stage, knocking back Wumpa, Toby, and the Killstone.

Angor Rot is here.

It’s a good thing Barbara brought her Heartstone spear on this trip.

Since the so called diplomacy mission with Gatto turned into a snatch and run, it was only a matter of time before something went bad in the Marshlands.

But no, something rotten just followed them all the way here.

There may be only one Angor Rot outnumbered by trolls and humans but it becomes quite obvious on who has the advantage.

To Barbara’s horror, Angor Rot catches everyone by surprise, kicking down the quagawumpas that try to attack him.

With one slash of his dagger, Angor turns the assault into stone. During that, Wumpa has protectively pulled Toby off stage as the more trolls begin to crowd around the assassin.

Meanwhile the drumline continues to play a fierce and intense rhythm, one that rivals the beat of Barbara’s panicking heart.

She has half the mind to glare at them and the other half is nodding to the beat.

Her Heartstone spearhead sines a brilliant blue as Kanjigar charges in.

In the scenario the kids get caught up in danger, Blinky has trained them for combat while Aaarrrgghh is tasked to keep them safe no matter what. So Aaarrrgghh is currently holding the three kids back while the Trollhunter and the quagawumpas attack the assassin.

Angor is deadly fast, lashing out his blade and then suddenly disappearing into shadows.

Seeing that, Barbara summons all the shadows around her to swirl into her own. There she slams the spear down and a violent energy wave shakes the vortex of shadows, shaking it from the inside out.

The shock absorption forces Angor out of the shadows into a stumbling fall. Kanjigar is able to take it from there and take the fight into close combat.

Exhaustion immediately takes Barbara as the shadows recoil into its normal state. She still wills the spear up and aims at the assassin, sending beams of energy to shield trolls that meet the unfortunate end of the daggers.

It’s all she could manage so far to keep the quagawumps from the fate of Creeper Sun poison.

That unholy concoction is worse than nightshade. An old Lake diary discovered it to be the reason the first ever solar eclipse ever happened.

The early age of changelings collected sun drops to be forged into weapons in mockery of the sword of Daylight.

Now Angor Rot has to be the most experienced being in existence with daggers as dangerous as those.

It didn’t help that his golems stomped into the clearing, infused with swamp mud and plants.

Aaarrrgghh is strong enough to bash them into the tree trunks. Jim and Claire unsheathed their swords and are helping the trolls evacuate. Meanwhile with Toby, his cover is apparently ruined as he admits the truth to Wumpa but she still gives him the Killstone.

That leaves the Trollhunter and Lady Lake against the troll assassin.

Kanjigar is more suited for ground battles so when Angor Rot starts leaping onto tree branches, Barbara gives the Trollhunter levitation boosts to launch him directly at the ancient troll.

Next thing she does is dig the butt of her spear into the ground. The Heartstone shines brightly as she wills the tree roots to burst out and entrap the golems.

With the roots holding them in place, Jim’s has a clean shot to aim an energy blast at the totem core. Aaarrrgghh simply bashes a whole one in seconds.

“Look out!”

In the midst of this, she’s distracted and only Kanjigar’s warning makes her looks up to see Angor Rot diving straight at her, dagger glinting in the low light.

There’s enough time and strength in her to maneuver the tree roots to knock him off his path. She attempts to wind a root around him but Angor simply digs his creeper sun dagger into the root, turning it into stone and easing his fall speed.

“You’re quite strong, child of Nimue,” Angor says and suddenly changes course by jumping off the roots targeting him. He dodges each and every little thing Barbara throws until he’s out of reach and he’s aiming his dagger at Aaarrrgghh.

The big troll has been a heavy hitter against the golems but there’s only so much he could do when he’s out numbered. The golems got Aaarrrgghh surrounded with only one window for Angor Rot to cut into.

“No!”

The last thing Barbara wants to see happens.

Her world freezes as Jim reaches Aaarrrgghh’s side, pushing away the golems in order to grab the Krubera’s arm the moment Angor Rot pierces Aaarrrgghh’s chest.

Golden light blinds the marshlands.

All that matters in the fallout is that Aaarrrgghh has an open gash in the middle of his body, the edges of it turning an unnatural gray and Jim is weak limped, harshly breathing, and in a headlock by none other than Angor Rot.

Even in a critical state, Aaarrrgghh attempts to weakly swipe at them but Angor takes a giant step back. Jim kicks and struggles as best he could but Angor grip remains as he uses his staff to summon up another shadow portal.

“Stop right there,” Barbara growls, her heart hammering and bile threatens to climb out of her mouth. She feels sick from the battle but more so at the sight of her child held hostage to a monster.

At her side, Kanjigar yanks the Killstone from Toby and holds it up, “You’re here for the Killstone. Give us Jim and it’s yours.”

A mocking laugh is what they get.

Angor Rot’s gleeful face is psychotic as he tightens his arm around Jim’s neck, “A pitiful stone is nothing. I’m getting my soul back.”

He jumps through the portal and Barbara sees her son close his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I sorry? Nah!
> 
> I love Angor Rot, he's a cool villain. He has his own plan and no evil master will stop him! What measures will you cross to get your soul back?
> 
> Other stuff: Nomura laughing at Draal because YES.
> 
> I don't recall any young or baby trolls ever in Trollmarket aside from Draal maybe. This definitely digs into Kanjigar's heart to see children in his war or how other trolls feel like it's unsafe to have children for the fear of goblins kidnapping them. 
> 
> Man, I really love the development I gave to Kanjigar, caring about Jim, willing to trade a vital piece of his life's journey to try to save a half changeling. 
> 
> Barbara on the other hand, well, what measures do you cross to get your soul back?
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	8. Boundless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a grand theft of Otto that no one expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey quick question, did any of you guys watch Pan's Labyrinth?

Jim opens his eyes and instantly pukes.

His body is more awake than his mind because next thing he knows is that he’s puking over the side of the boat.

Wait, a boat?

Jim blinks a few times to adjust his eyes to the vast darkness around him. The world is empty and dark but there are wisps of colors flickering in and out of vision. He thinks there are also figures of something up ahead, nothing solid enough to feel real, like it’s a mirage.

The most important detail in this is that Jim Lake is on a tiny boat with Angor Rot.

The proportions are jarring to the point where Jim’s tied up feet are barely touching Angor. The towering assassin pays him no mind, staring up ahead and using his shadow staff as an ore in the style of Venice’s gondolas.

There’s no real water per say to be traveling on and yet Angor goes through the motions of rowing, standing and keeping his balance on the soft wadding of the boat.

After puking for a second time, the tight feeling in Jim’s gut and the headache goes down. Coughing out the last of the lingering bile, Jim asks, “Where are we?”

“Traveling through the Shadow Realm,” Angor said. “We’re taking the safer route. I wouldn’t want you to escape on a reckless flight.”

Sure enough the rope tided around his legs parallel the ones binding his arms behind his back. Jim still struggles though and he has half the thought to topple the boat and risk falling into the void.

Actually that’s really scary, Jim rethinks, observing the Shadow Realm.

It’s silent yet there’s the sound of shifting sands or echoes of wind without any proof of source.

Jim’s ferryman of the dead continues, “I was hoping for you to remain unconscious but I supposed that’s too much to hope for.”

“Yeah, kidnapping me while unconscious would be the easy part,” Jim grunted.

“That _is_ the easiest part, what with you being selfless and expending nearly all of your strength to heal your friend at the moment of death,” he said plainly as Jim remembers exactly how all of this happened.

Aaarrrgghh was about to be stabbed with the dagger of instant doom and Jim, being Jim, runs over with an unnatural speed to cast death ward, only this time without any conduit.

Well, that explains why his body aches and nausea kicks his brain. Jim knows it was risky to do conduit-less magic, surging unchecked magic through him, but from Angor’s words it appears to have worked.

But in the end, Angor has him tied up on this jolly boat ride.

The assassin increases his rowing speed and the miasma figures are soon passing by. On a closer look, it the figures are identified as people. They’re sectioned off in groups but it all goes down the path Angor leads them.

It’s like stages going down a line or like the most horrifying rendition of the_ It’s a Small World_ ride.

Jim can’t help but stare because these physical shadows mold into the man Jim hasn’t seen in eleven years.

Each stage has a set of a Shadow James Struges and a Shadow Angor Rot. Their mouths are moving, acting in their own world and ignoring the audience.

“You didn’t want me to see this,” Jim realizes. “What even is this?”

“Whoever welds the skathe-hrun can attach their self to this realm for fast travel,” Angor says analytically, “I have no living emotional anchor to portal to and fro so I rely on memories.”

These current physical manifestations are all interactions with James Sturges but Angor doesn’t pay any attention to them. Instead he just paddles on, passing by more memories.

Jim leans his head out, peering down the path ahead. There are a _lot_ more memories to travel by.

Curiosity and questions are at the tip of Jim’s tongue and there’s some hope for answers due to Angor’s willingness to explain but as they pass by memories of James, Jim is wordless.

It’s all silent but that doesn’t stop the memories from being loud and wild.

One of the first memories they pass by is Angor watching James punch an imprisoned Strickler. Next one is James pointing on a map in the countryside for Angor to go hunting in. Jim even gets to see James in his changeling form and air is stale in Jim’s mouth when he notices the resemblance.

More simply have James with a derange grin as he talks down on Angor Rot or people in masks. A memory that spooks Jim is of James observing a pale eyeless creature on an examination table. Jim looks away when James holds up a scalp with a curious smile.

Not all of these early memories have James but they’re the ones Jim focuses on. Otherwise he’ll be caught up seeing Angor Rot taking his time in killing. An earlier one is a fight against Kanjigar. The rest are just flashes of a fight scene, either with other trolls or magical creatures Jim doesn’t recognize.

Almost all of them have Angor Rot winning.

Then finally Jim sees a stage where Angor Rot disregards James and that Otto guy with unfamiliarity in a ruined temple. Like in other memories, James holds his ringed hand in victory but this moment is at its peak in hope.

“We’re going down your memories in reverse order,” Jim processes and very much confused. The next memory, the one where it shows Angor Rot in a destructive battle against another ancient troll who triggers the temple’s collapse onto the assassin, it brings a heavy gut feeling to Jim that something is very wrong. “You’ve just passed everything related to James.”

“Ah, I see you have eyes and a brain,” Angor Rot commented, “Wonderful.”

Jim only has some key information about this place, all sourced from Angor Rot but there’s nothing to prove if it’s all truth or lies.

Portals through emotional anchors of people or memories and right now they’re passing by memories that predate James’ control.

“You’re not taking me to him,” Jim gulps. A mixture of relief and uncertain is in his heart. “Where are you taking me?”

“To the moment where it all began,” Angor Rot answered with a weight of anger and determination, “where it all went wrong.”

The assassin rows faster and Jim, helpless and feeling sick, watches the memories go by.

How many times is Toby going to watch his best friend get kidnapped?

So far the number is two.

Like last time the Trollhunter gang recuperates in Vendel’s office, filling in the others on what’s up and work on a game plan.

Vendel and Barbara are quick to work on the nasty cut in Aaarrrgghh’s chest. Blinky is holding his husband’s arm with all four hands. Even though the bulk of the damage is nulled out, there’s still enough poison for a slow death as Vendel applies a treatment to stall it more so.

Unlike last time, Barbara’s cold rage is now fire.

“I’m going to do it,” Barbara announced, digging through Vendel’s shelves.

“You were knocked unconscious the moment the spell ended,” Vendel said, gently pushing her away from the shelves.

“But it worked! I survived it, I can do it again,” she snarled, quickly snatching a small box before the elder troll out stop her.

“Hey Doctor L,” Toby warily asks, “What are you doing?”

She pulls out tarot cards from the box and shuffles them at a blazing speed, “I’m predicting the future to find out where exactly Jim is and he’ll take us to Jim. I know nothing of Angor Rot but I know James and he’ll want to do this efficiently and in private.”

“That does sound like a method a changeling as powerful as a director would use,” Strickler said. “From personal experience I think he’ll use the Janus Order’s interrogation chambers.”

Draal said, “Well that doesn’t sound ominous, not at all.”

“But that makes sense, doesn’t it?” Claire pointed out, “He’s the director and he has a secret lair, of course that’s where Angor is taking Jim.”

“That’s just it though, it’s Angor Rot that has Jim, not the director,” Kanjigar said, once again wearing guilt on his face. “That assassin is unpredictable and might not trade Jim immediately. He could hold this over Sturges’ head.”

Barbara spats, “That’s on the assumption that James would care enough about Jim to do it. No, he would only care about Angor Rot because,” her voice quivered as her hands shook. She sets the deck on the table and said with her head held low, “James wouldn’t do anything to save Jim.”

The room is tense and quiet but they hear the mother hold back her tears, inhaling though clogged nostrils.

The Trollhunter approaches her and gently pulls her into a hug, “We will get him back but Barbara, I hate to suggest it but Sturges would be the only person in the world who could track down Angor Rot.”

“Also he would have the cure for Creeper Sun,” Strickler added.

Toby frowned, “You don’t?”

“I’d never resort to those tactics,” the changeling said. “I do know that its formula is archived within the headquarters’ top securities.”

“Getting that cure is important,” Blinky said, “and there is a likely possibility Lord Jim is there.”

Everyone looked frazzled and confused and overall stressed. Toby could barely get his heart to stop beating so fast.

Vendel taps his staff down, getting everyone attention. “Lady Lake, we’ll comb through all the tracking and scrying spells we know to locate Jim before interfering with time magic. While navigating the Shadow Realm without a proper toll is unheard of it should still be a possibility. Blinky and Kanjigar, take Aaarrrgghh to the medical dens for further treatment. Strickler, I’ll need everything you know about Angor Rot and Creeper Sun.” Finally he turns to the last three, “Draal, take the children home.”

“What?” Toby refused, “No, we recused Jim and stopped Bular last time, we can stop Angor Rot too.”

“And we get that you want us out of troll affairs,” Claire gave the elder a stubborn look, her tone underselling resurfaced anger, “but Jim is our friend and I won’t be put to the sidelines again.”

Vendel studied them and it’s a bit hard for Toby to read the troll’s expressions other than unhappiness. He does turn to Barbara whose hand is carefully placed over the tarot deck.

She raises her head and begs to the children, “Please, I need to know you’re both safe.”

Her blue eyes are just as powerful as Jim’s, probably even more so. Either way Toby can’t get angry or stubborn against the tearful mother of his best friend.

Draal leads them out of Trollmarket and their solemn attitude reflects the public.

To be honest, Toby actually saw change in the troll’s opinion on changelings. Nothing too major since it’s mostly just Jim the troll people like. Then again their other changelings are Strickler, the previous leader, and Not-Enrique, the one starting the out of control parties.

The small changeling catches them on the way out and they recap the situation for him.

“So you’re just gonna listen and obey the lady,” Not-Enrique said, “but at the same time you feel like you can’t do nothing.”

Claire narrows her eyes at him, not glaring but suspicious, “You’re going to suggest something dangerous, aren’t you?”

“Fellas,” Not-Enrique took lead as they climb the crystal staircase, “let’s take a trip to the Janus Order.”

Before they do any infiltrations on a dangerous organization, Claire meets this Stuey friend of her changeling brother.

Stuart of Stuart’s Electronics and Toby’s favorite taco truck guy. He’s humble, not at all fazed that Not-Enrique brought them to the store’s backdoor, and most distinctively he smells. A lot.

“Stuey, where’s that box I left here?” The changeling climbs the high selves of the storage room.

“It should be next to the old PC’s,” Stuart said. He tries to smooth down his tangled hair as he gives her a nervous smile, “If I’d knew Naughty’s brought guests I would um cleaned up a bit.”

“Nah, you’re good,” Toby said, poking at a radio Stuart’s been repairing.

“Yeah and um,” Claire squinted at him and her troll brother pulling out a cardboard box with Draal’s assistance, “Naughty?”

“Not-E, Not, N-E,” Stuart began listing off his fingers and had a big smile on the last name, “Naughty, fits the best with this little guy.”

“It is rather perfect for you,” Draal said, opening the box.

Not-Enrique pointed a talon at the former troll, “No one else will call me that. Got it?”

Stuart beamed at that.

The changeling pulled out three blank gray masks and explained, “All underling agents wear these but I should hide in someone’s bag or whatever. Now are you three ready for this? If you’re right then we’ll not just be walking into the den of lions but also to the assassin of all assassins.”

None of his warnings deterred their determination.

They went where two faces meet and walked among the masked changelings.

Claire thought their disguises would fail the moment two teenagers and a one armed guy came down the travel agency’s secret elevator but to her surprise the changelings appeared to be human of nearly all ages.

From preteen to elderly, agents walked with purpose through the countless pathways. If it wasn’t for Not-Enrique poking at Draal’s back through the backpack, they would’ve been lost. A few times they have to risk Not-Enrique to peep out and guide them directly but it is working. All they have to rely on is luck.

Not-Enrique told them that he’s only been through the base a handful of times during his cover on being the child of a political figure. Apparently new agents are sent to an education section to get introduced into the modern human world and other precautions or fail safes if something goes off.

There are a lot of layers and depth to this, the girl thinks as they pass a door labeled _Fabrication Studio – Seamstresses Only. _Another section they pass by is dedicated to _Forgery Documents _with a sign attached warning _‘printer broken, blame Alice’_. She and Toby had to drag Draal away from the open door of a weapons vault and let Claire just say, they looked very organized and pointy.

They had to carry on.

According to their changeling friend, the classrooms are right next the chemistry and alchemy labs. It’s their best bet on finding the formula for Creeper Sun cure.

When they got to the appropriate hallway there was a very long line of agents waiting to be let into one of the classrooms.

The agent directing the line is holding a clipboard and points a pen right at the three of them, “You three, you’re late. You’re lucky that Esmerelda wasn’t doing the headcount.”

Claire really wishes they could think of a fabulous lie at this moment. Instead their stammering and excuses are useless as the agent urges the line to move right on into the classroom for orientation.

Great, just great.

It’s SAT and CAT prep meeting all over again for Claire. Same foldable chairs and same big screen and projector ready to teach students how their education grading system of standardized testing is all about how there is only one correct way to being a smart successful student and no amount of individuality or creativity will ever be seen as good enough or profitable by the old school district board members.

Look, she’s really annoyed about the lack of financial support in the arts program in the school district. She has brought this matter to her mom but so far it doesn’t seem to get through to her that this is important to Claire and other students.

She’s snapped out of these thoughts when the room darkens and the bright video plays and Strickler is there making some greetings and introduction on the Arcadia Division. It’s a pretty standard propaganda, actually this would be a typical example Strickler himself would criticize in history class.

Then the video glitches as if the file is corrupted. Even the rest of the audience mutter their confusion and suddenly on screen is a face Claire should not know.

She shouldn’t know it at all but she remembers months ago when they peered through the Fetch and saw a baby with black hair and eyes.

Toby confirms it with anger, “It’s him.”

“That’s him?” Draal scowls.

To their surprise other seated members repeat those words.

“It’s him,” one said with a strange hollowness.

“That guy assisted the doctor at my last base,” another says with a thick French accent.

More connections and half hashed stories are muttered but the video is chillingly patient with a smirk.

Finally James Sturges speaks.

“Hello new arrivals, I believe by now you all recognize me.” His grin is too familiar, soft and welcoming but his eyes are nothing like Jim’s. James stares into the lens with a bone deep certainty that everything is in his favor. “After all, I’ve visited all of your previous stations and handpicked each and every one of you to be here for your expertise. I need the best of the best for my current projects but first I should properly introduce myself.”

The camera pans out, showing off the pristine medical research lab James is in. He puts on a white lab coat for extra clarification.

“I am Doctor James Sturges but all of you will refer to me as Director Jair Strange.” That smile of his quirks into a sharp grin that freezes Claire in her seat. “Let it be known that I always held that rank, any mention of a previous leader is simply a seat warmer.”

Claire swears she heard the agent with the clipboard scoffed.

The director continues, “From my experience as a doctor for both human biology and troll biology, I’ve encountered many cases for us changelings to understand our own evolution. As we all know the Pale Lady is our divine creator, the one to give us two worlds to walk through, and yet it’s simply outrageous we are treated as half a being by other societies.” He shakes his head, tutting disapprovingly. On the table next to him just so happens to be a Gumm-gumm helmet Claire recognizes from Blinky’s history books.

“We are not human,” James seamlessly flashes blue and the lab coat remains on his blue troll body, “nor are we a part of a tyrant’s army.” At that he swipes the helmet off the table and holds his arm outstretched, “We are changelings and we are boundless!”

His passionate words reach the audience, a few cheer while others nod enthusiastically.

“Our Pale Lady gave us this unique magical skill but I have proven that we can do more,” James waves over for an assistant to enter the frame. With a directorial nod, there are a series of white flashes as the assistant shifts into multiple human faces. “Polymorph changelings, our Pale Lady’s latest gift to our people, and they amazed us all with their skill under the human skin. That is only one greatness and capability. We ended up wondering what about changing into other trolls or creatures? That was once a complex idea but thanks to me I made it possible.”

The assistant began shifting into different troll species, volcanic stone, white granite, jewel encrusted. Each one amazes the audience and shocking the three who should not be here.

The changeling goes on tangent, explaining his years of research and some magical explanation that Claire manages to understand. James or Jair, whatever, traveled the globe for magical ingredients or relics that became the key to the process. It’s like a magical version of those Jurassic Park scientists talking about splicing DNA or infusing it all into one genetic strand.

James clarifies how it’s only perfected on changelings fresh from the Darklands. He needs the people in the audience to further work on the equation to turn establishing agents into polymorphs. From Claire’s understanding this all means there’s no need for familiars, they can just slip into the world unannounced and easily take any other human’s or troll’s role.

They’re shapeshifters getting rid of their limitations.

“Boundless potential,” James said with proudness that frightens Claire. “This is what I’ve been working on for eleven years.”

Next to Claire, Toby hisses, “This is what he left for?”

Draal’s growl is hopefully low enough to be unnoticed.

A sinking feeling her gut just gets even worse as the man on screen rambles on about his life’s work with no guilt or shame about how he broke a good woman’s trust and a little boy’s heart.

Suddenly light pours into the dark lit room as three masked agents stumble in.

One straightens up to the agent in charge and said, “Sorry we’re late, we got lost in the gift shop.”

Instantly, the agent looks over to Claire, Toby, and Draal.

Not-Enrique decides there’s no time for recovery or bluffs and shouts, “Run!”

Draal takes charge and bulrushes the agents out of the doorway as the two humans follow post haste to the chemistry lab.

The lab door is nothing against Draal’s human strength as he kicks it open, rushes the rest of them inside and holds down the door as the agents pound on it. The scientists in the room are caught off guard and before they react, Not-Enrique jumps out of the backpack with a knife.

“Oh my diamonds he has a knife!” A scientist yells.

Not-Enrique swings it around, “That’s right. Now do what we say and we might let you live!”

Before Claire could tell him to tone it down, the head scientist takes a step forward, glaring at the subordinates, “You idiots, we all have knives!”

“This is not good,” Toby said and Claire has to agree. They couldn’t bring their bulky heavy hammer or sword and instead put all of Draal’s knives and daggers in his bag.

Not-Enrique fends off the scientists as Claire grabs the bag and gets her and Toby equipped. Draal grabs the closest table to quickly barricade the door. All the while, an alarm system goes off with red flashing blubs adding tension to the room.

Claire and Toby do their best in this knife fight while Draal relies on sheer strength in one very strong arm. They still had on Jim’s protection wards on their bracelets but they could only do so much in this dangerous situation.

She wants to say they put up a good fight but in reality the troll’s combat lessons rely mostly on big weapons. Her swings are too wide and slow compared to the precision of the Janus agent. They strike at her wrist, only aiming to disarm her and she too doesn’t want to really hurt them.

She does follow the Trollhunter’s Rule Three though, that’s always effective.

By the time they take down half of the scientists, the agents break down the barricade door, and the agents apprehend them.

Doom and despair settles in as they’re disarmed and lead off to the interrogation chambers.

The four of them get tired up to a chair in the all-white room and are just left with some balding man wearing glasses.

“Ottoman,” Not-Enrique growled.

“Nevers-Enough,” the man hisses back.

“You sure have a lot of names,” Draal said.

The guy, Otto, scowls more but it turns into confusion at Draal, “Ah, who are you?”

“Captain Dorito according to the kids,” he answers flatly.

Otto blinks, having no idea on how to react to that. Fortunately for him the door opens and the man responsible for this entire base is here. He’s wearing the same lab coat from the video but this time with safety goggles around his neck and black rubber gloves too.

“Where’s Jim?!” Toby yelled at the director.

James Sturges coolly ignores Toby’s rage and tells the agent following him, “Esmeralda, just leave the 49-B files on my desk and tell recon team to return to base. There will be no extraction for the trickster.” He sends that agent away and focuses on Otto. His voice is cold, “Well aren’t you tense, Ottoman.”

The man flinches, bowing his head, “I can explain, sir.”

“I thought you said security was the best here. Explain to me how three children and a traitor got a hold of our masks.” He’s every inch of an angry boss but one second later he’s chuckling with a relaxed demeanor, that doesn’t stop the uneasy air in the room. “I mean, I understand why they want it, it’s just a sleek aesthetic, am I right?”

“I’ll say, the gift shop is a hit,” Not-Enrique pipes in but is ignored.

“It appears the masks the infiltrators used are same ones reported missing from Stricklander’s apartment when the field team cleared it out,” Otto said.

The director snorted and complained, “Stricklander this, Stricklander that. I’m so tired of hearing a dead man’s name.” Toby and Claire glanced at each other, confused and scared and worried. “You know I actually found his old nameplate still in my office.”

It sickened Claire on how fast Otto began sweating and fiddling with his hands, soothing the palm area intensively. He spluttered, “No, no, I made sure I got rid-“

James threw his head back in laughter, “I’m just joking, Ottoman!”

That didn’t stop the poor guy’s trembling.

Not-Enrique joined in laughing at Otto’s spooked face, “That’s really good. You know, I got something funny to say too.” The director finally gave them a second look, an amused smile waiting for the tied up changeling’s joke.

Claire’s a second too late from stopping her brother, “No don’t!”

“Old boss Strickler is alive,” Not-Enrique smirked. He even wiggled his arms out of the rope to fold his arms behind his head, “I don’t know where you got the idea he’s dead cause that’s real funny.”

He continues snickering as James’ smile is falls apart.

“What did you just say?”

The director takes a step towards them and the menacing look in his eyes makes Claire jump, scooting her chair away.

Draal growls and tugs on the ropes. He actually moves his chair closer to hers, trying to shield her as best he could.

“I said my boss-man is still up and kicking.”

On James’ second step he pauses, not because of how terrified teenagers like her and Toby are but because Not-Enrique’s confident smile is still holding up.

James straightens up, readjusting his coat sleeves, “I must say I’m not so convinced because the last time I saw Stricklander, he wasn’t in the best condition. Am I right, Ottoman?” Behind him, Otto nods, yelping confirmations. “Hmm, I think I’d like a refresher.”

The director snaps his fingers and no one knows what to do when Otto’s trembles violently as white light washes over him and he’s suddenly an identical copy of Strickler in his troll form.

James gave the troll a look over, “I believed he looked a tad more, what’s the word, ah yes,” wicked fast, the director punches the polymorph’s face, “bruised.”

Claire finds her voice to be very, very small, a shrill really, “What are you doing!?”

She regrets ever speaking when James turns to her with a deranged and baffled look, “I’m just trying to understand Nevers’s story. From my perspective I left Stricklander in quite the state of health.” He continues punching Otto down, kicking his ribs, stomping on his wings, and Claire squeezes her eyes shut for all of it.

The others protest too.

“You’re an absolute devil!” Draal shouts.

“Stop, just stop it, this is not awesome-sauce!” Toby sounds like he’s on the verge of tears.

“You’re worse than Gunmar!” Not-Enrique roars and Claire opens her eyes when she hears the changeling jump off his seat to attack the director.

It doesn’t go so well as James’ quickly restraints Not-Enrique in his hands, “Tell me how someone with broken limps, cracked torso, and fractured wings survives after getting tossed away?”

Not-Enrique scowls darkly at him, “Easy, an assassin gives him a pick-me-up and takes him to a good doctor.”

Fierce rage is not a pretty look on James Sturges, “What!?”

“Angor Rot brought Strickler to us,” Toby said and his glares return, “and now he took Jim away. Tell us where Jim is!”

To everyone’s surprise, James is the one in a cold sweat. There’s a tremor in his voice, “Angor has Jim?”

In a fit of anger, Toby scoots his chair to yell closer at the man, “Yes and we know he’s doing it to get his soul or whatever but we’re taking Jim back!”

On unsteady feet, James drops Not-Enrique like a hot potato.

“Oh no,” is all he says with absolute terror and runs out of the room.

The four prisoners process the sudden silence.

“Um, what just happened?” Draal asks.

“I think we need to leave,” Not-Enrique said, crawling over to untie all of them.

“But we still need to find Jim and the Creeper Sun cure,” Toby insisted.

Claire wants to agree with him but there’s a bitter, sinking feeling in her gut, “Toby, I don’t think Jim is here. From the looks of it, no one knows about Angor Rot’s kidnapping, not even Sturges.”

Draal opens the door a crack, “I don’t think we can run all the way to the elevator.”

“Wait,” a weak voice calls and they all look over to the polymorph still crumbled on the floor. He’s still disguised as Strickler, beaten down and facing away from them. “I can help you.”

No one says anything, just giving each other unsure looks on whether to doubt him or not. Draal’s the first one to move, carefully helping the polymorph sit up right.

As he does so, white light flashes as Otto shifts into a new form.

His pale white body is decorated with pink and red bruises and cracks. If he stood up Claire thinks his hornless head would touch the ceiling. The entirety of his head is smooth, the nose shaped to be practically nothing but two dots as the nostrils. His cheeks and chin sagged with extra layers of skin as if it has been stretched too much. Other parts of his body had the same results, skin stretched and loose on the body. The part that really creeps Claire and Toby out is the how there is just smooth seamless skin where Otto’s eyes should be.

Otto rasps out for breath, “I know where the cure’s formula is. There’s a back room in his private lab and it’s spelled with warding off other changelings, especially polymorphs, but I believe the director never thought a human would ever come down here.”

“What’s in it for you?” Not-Enrique asked, “How are we supposed to trust you?”

Sharp teeth and thin lips twitch into a gritted frown. Otto inhaled deeply, “I’m not asking for your trust. I’m making a deal with you, your cure and your escape for something I want back.” Otto holds up his large hands and in each palm was an empty eye socket, “I want my _eyes_ back!”

To be completely honest, Angor Rot has tried to forget this memory, tries to push it deep within his subconscious.

It doesn’t work.

It never works.

This is where it all went wrong.

The Shadow Memories will always be an annoying way to travel for Angor Rot, a reminder of who he is without a soul. He never wants to venture down the memories that predate the fateful damnation. He doesn’t deserve to look at the life Angor has lost.

But one thing for certain, he’s getting his soul back.

He rows over to the memory of the cave and lifts the skathe-hrun to anchor onto it.

A portal opens.

Angor grabs the magical boy in one hand, content that he’s finally stopped squirming out of the shadow bindings. Once they step out of the boat it returns into its proper shadowy matter and the two are floating adrift in the realm. Angor wills the binding to hold as they drift to the portal.

They leave the Shadow Realm and land on cold sand. The lapping waves of the English Channel are behind them as they stand before the cave’s mouth.

“Where are we?” Jim Lake whispers.

Out of the darkness, a voice of doom speaks sweetly, “You’re home. My champion has brought you home.”

Angor takes that as an invitation and pushes the boy forward. When he stubbornly doesn’t walk, Angor simply hooks his hands under the boy’s arms and carries him into the cave, “Pale Lady, I’ve come for my soul!”

“Pale Lady,” Jim slowly processes, still so confused and new to this world.

“I have many names,” she speaks, just like on Angor’s first arrival. Out of the altar, golden light of fire is lit. The woman of horrors is here. “You may know me as Morgana Le Fay and you are the child I’ve been waiting for.” She holds out her emerald hand, her eyes are bright with a love Angor Rot cannot feel. From how frozen Jim is, he too doesn’t know how to react to this. “Jim Lake, the one born from my magic and my wife’s.”

“Your wife?”

Morgana wears a smile so soft and tender but her voice is proud and projecting all of her passion, “Lakeshore Le Fay, mother of Nimue the Lady of the Lake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My notes for since the beginning looked like:
> 
> What if Morgana is the Lady of the Lake?  
Or her daughter/mom?  
Or she's like a fairy godmother type for Lakeshore?  
Or her girlfriend/wife (THIS ONE)  
And Nimue is the daughter (YES)
> 
> More will be heavily explained in the next chapter! But here I decided to try link up all of Guillermo's movies to Trollhunters. 
> 
> To clarify, polymorphy changelings are blank, stark white trolls with their eyeballs in their palms because Morgana likes to make things spooky. James/Jair has just decided to up the spookiness by doing experiments that apparently rip those eyeballs out. 
> 
> (O_O) wait no its ( _ ) for Otto.
> 
> It's for the sake of science.
> 
> For the Shadow Realm stuff, I thought that since the staff is emotionally connected to the holder, Angor would use memories for fast travel since I think all of his emotional anchors are dead. Yeah, he's been having a difficult immortal life but now he's making another deal with the devil.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	9. Wonders of the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's only one person in the world that has management over Angor and Jim's meeting her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright this is where I have to call a break! I'm sure I'll post the next two chapters before the year ends at the very least but until then I'm still writing the end of Storms.

To Vendel’s utter misery, none of the locating spells work. After their eleventh attempt, Barbara Lake gave him the most determined glare ever as she demanded the deck of tarot cards from him.

He wished it would have not come to this but he too has gone desperate.

As the Elder of Trollmarket, he is a beacon of wisdom to any who would listen.

He advises with the Tribunal Council on political affairs in the communities and other markets. He mentors the Trollhunter when their kin needs a leader and not a fighter. He assists the descendants of powerful wizards in need of judgement for dangerous magic.

The one type of magic Vendel will always be afraid of is any interference with time and destiny.

Knowledge of the future is ruled by temptation. There are stories of prophets unprepared for the weight of truth. They go mad and become obsessed with altering it or fall into despair at not stopping it at all.

Destiny is priced and it takes a careful hand to weave it in a favorable outcome.

The first time Vendel let Barbara use this spell, it was carefully censored and vague for her safety.

Through the cards it will lessen the toll, interpretation and symbolism to test the caster’s mettle on tampering with time.

Vendel thought long and hard about the results of Barbara’s first interference.

Kanjigar bonded more with Draal, Jim learned about his heritage, and Barbara faced against her former significant other.

What can happen after another tarot reading?

Barbara Lake is casted in blue magic, shuffling and cutting the deck over and over. Each repetition Vendel can see the weight and pressure of magic hurting her. Blue eyes are extremely dry and strained, blue magic fogging her sight. Standing still becomes a challenge as her knees buckle and her hands begin to shake.

Finally she sets the deck down and begins to draw.

The first card is the upright Hanged Man, then the upright Wheel of Fortune, and lastly the reversed Empress.

“I don’t,” Barbara blinks feverishly, already drained of magic. “Where is he?”

Vendel stops her from drawing a fourth card, “You’re pushing your limit, Barbara.”

“I need to find him,” she cried, her magic sparking up in little bursts. The deck shivers in anticipation as she lays a hand on top, “I want my son back.”

“You need to be alive for that to happen,” Vendel tells her, ready to force her home. He may not be the caster with a mental link to the cards but he’ll be able to decipher the message hopefully. “We won’t get a specific location. The cards are telling us _how_ to get there.”

“I need to do this Vendel,” Barbara insists but the moment she draws a card her eyes roll back and her whole body goes slack yet still standing.

Barbara opens her eyes and silver magic takes over her usual blue.

Vendel knows exactly what’s happening and patiently waits for the deep dive of magic to run its course. He hopes Barbara does not take too much power from her blood’s leyline.

Her hand moves to flip of the fourth card, the upright Strength.

The wizard’s next card is the reversed Chariot.

The last card drawn is unreadable. Silver magic coats to it like a second layer and once Barbara sets it in the middle of the table, the magic dispels off of her.

Barbara gasps for air and Vendel’s there to support her when she needs help standing. She’s staring at all the cards and then rests her eyes at the one in the middle.

“Get Kanjigar,” Barbara wheezes, “I know how to find Jim.”

He doesn’t understand her certainty but he believes her.

The silver glow lessens to reveal the upright Star with a silver drawing of the amulet of Daylight upon it.

“Um,” Jim said, “What?”

He would really like to run away, as far away as he can. The dark sea from earlier is looking very, very tempting than standing so close to the golden spirit in the fire pyre.

It appears she can’t leave the altar, waiting with open arms for Jim to be as welcoming as possible.

Well, as welcoming as a lady in full golden armor, a green gemmed hand, and smiling at him expectedly can be.

“I don’t um, I don’t really follow?” Jim fiddles with the shadows still binding his wrists, “What do you mean by me being born of your and your wife’s magic? Like I think I get the whole Nimue’s mother part but who are you exactly?”

Also he already has a mom, thank you very much for the overwhelming amount of material love.

There’s a brief flicker of annoyance in the woman’s green eyes but with the helmet on and her flawless smile, Jim can’t be sure.

“I am Morgana Le Fay, Mistress of the Dark Arts, ugh,” she drops her smile when Jim is still utterly confused. “How do you not know about me?”

“Oh uh, sorry, I do know about you,” he said, recalling the old books about Morgana’s part in the King Arthur tales. “I just can’t seem to believe how this is happening. Like, I don’t understand what you mean by me being born of magic.”

“Honey, I’m the Mother of Monsters, the changelings’ Pale Lady.”

Before Jim could blink, Morgana reaches a hand out and touches his cheek. The touch is chilly despite the fire burning in front of him. He flinches away as golden light goes off and he’s now a troll.

Just… What the- _how!?_

The feeling itself is the same but Jim can’t help but feel violated and horrified at the forced exposure of one of his biggest insecurities. Morgana pays no mind to his quickness of breath and slightest of shivers.

“Oh my, you’re using my arcana signature,” she coos, “and you’re a handsome young troll. I bet you’re a real charmer to other younglings. Oh, are you courting anyone?”

“Pale Lady,” hissed Angor Rot. Oh yeah he’s still here while Jim’s freaking out. “I have followed through my end of the bargain.”

Honestly Jim doesn’t know how the assassin has been this patience and so disinterested in this current event. He’s just been waiting by the bottom of the altar with a dead eye stare.

“Ah yes, of course my champion,” Morgana began to cup her hands together and Jim sees colorful sparkles gather there. The light is different than the fire that consumes her and she catches his eyes, “I’ll teach you many spells, my child, but this one is very specific about the resources. Now please stand aside.”

Heeding the warning, Jim steps to her right side, giving a clear path to Angor Rot.

She aims and the cluster of sparkles is released from her hand, floating gently to the pale troll. Once it made contact, Angor’s eyes went blank and his whole body froze like a statue.

“Hmm, this will take longer than I thought,” she mutters under her breath. Morgana turned to Jim with that same smitten smile that he cannot return, “That gives us more family time,” she laughs joyfully, “of course, we have all the time in the world now to actually complete it!”

Again, all Jim can say, while subtly trying to undo his bindings, is, “Um, what?”

“As you can see I’m not exactly all here,” Morgana gestures with her free hand, the green one, at her transparency, “Spirit Realm business aside, we can deal with that later. I need your help to find Lakeshore.”

“Find her?”

Morgana sighs, “Lakeshore, my truest love turned herself into an unfindable lake.”

Internally, Jim says _‘that’s rough buddy’_ but he isn’t keen on getting on wrong side of the most important figure in dark magic history.

Externally, Jim says, “I think I need some context.”

She sighs deeply and rests the back of her hand on her forehead dramatically, “It’s just a sad story Jim, one of pain and agony that remains fresh in my ghost.” He doesn’t know how to respond to that so there’s a bit of an awkward pause. Morgana looks to him, unblinkingly, and then that gusto is back with a loud, “A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away!”

“What!”

This time, Morgana does blink at Jim, surprised, “Have you not learned about other galaxies yet?”

Jim is currently choking on air.

“Anyway, there was once a being made out of pure light that decided extends its reach to Earth. From the studies myself and others made, we concluded that the being was a physical manifestation of another planet’s main leyline of light. That unknown being then tampered with Earth’s leyline to create an entirely new manifestation just like it.”

With her free hand, she waved around the fire that summons her to flicker into almost recognizable shapes. One flame flickers brightly in her palm into an almost humanoid shape with thin limbs.

“History gets a bit disorganized around here but all we gathered was that Earth’s leyline of light became a sentient being recorded as Gaylen.”

Jim shakes his head, as if that’s enough to deny this, “No way, leylines don’t just, they don’t, what? Leylines are the source of magic and this Gaylen, it doesn’t make sense.”

The study of leylines has always confused Jim, like it’s ultra-magic and untouchable. Yet the magic sheds off of it and links to spell casters, or at least that’s one of many explanations from the history books.

Morgana herself shares a brief annoyed look, “Sometimes there is no method or logic to leylines. It just flows with life and its needs. After all, when Gaylen manifested the sun was cast in darkness for weeks till it slowly came back. Then for whatever reason, Gaylen’s creator left the moment he was created.

“He was confused and mad to be abandoned on Earth without any other being like himself. Then he gets the idea to leave as well but before that he must get stronger. Gaylen attempts to steal power from the other leylines of Earth. This is where we wizards get involved.”

The Gaylen figure in her hand was animated to thrash around, swinging at nothing and yet his strength grew. His body expanded into a bulky mass of power as horns grew from the side of his head and flat wings emerged from his back.

Jim has his breath back at this point but not really because he barely forms the question, “How, wait, why, no, no I’m sorry but am I supposed to believe this?”

The wizard gives him a blank look, “You’re a half troll talking to a ghost who is giving an immortal assassin a new soul. Now are you going to question everything or rely on outdated logic?”

He thinks it over.

Jim tells her, “Yeah you got a point there.”

“Now where was I? Ah yes, great wizards of old gathered the best of the best and Merlin brought me to the front lines as his prodigal student. At the time leyline magic was new and thriving and yet we knew only to use a mere ounce of its power for our own sanity. We had to stop Gaylen from consuming more than ever should be considered real. We did practically every spell imaginable in that era but in the end I’m not even sure we won. Gaylen gained enough strength to leave Earth and we have received no sign at all of his trace.”

The animated flame bends his knees and jumps out, flying above Jim’s head and dies out with tiny embers sizzling.

“I never cared to be curious of it, I was glad he was gone but new trouble just had to arose. Gunmar became the next power seeker but at least he craved Heartstones and not leylines. At first Merlin didn’t want to deal with this matter until Gunmar brought his raids into human civilizations. I’m sure someone taught you this story at least.”

She’s right, this was one of the first lessons Blinky taught along with that book with the really long title enough though the word ‘brief’ is in it.

“Merlin built the amulet of Daylight to help the trolls fight against Gunmar and,” Jim gulped at Morgana’s growing scowl, “and you.”

“You’re a little ahead of yourself but yes, that’s correct,” Morgana said. “Originally I didn’t want to fight another war. I was tired of risking my life so I left Merlin to explore the world I helped defend.” There’s a distracted look in her eyes as she asks Jim, “How is the world today? What’s it like?”

Jim thought it over, “It’s still good, sure some stuff got messed up but it’s still a good world.”

Again Morgana smiles but to Jim’s surprise, it feels genuine and real.

That small gentle expression is still there as she says, “Once I was done traveling, I returned home to its battle damaged state and met Merlin’s newest student, Lakeshore.”

A new flame appeared in her palm and this time there’s more effort and details in the way the fire flickers into a tender smile and intricately designed robes.

“She was radiant and, hah, actually resented me for running away from the fight.” Morgana’s expression flipped, frowning, “I thought I got through to her about my reluctance to sacrifice my life. I thought she understood me after we spent years together.

“We practiced and researched magic together, fought against Gumm-gumms, and assisted Merlin when he was still forging prototypes of Daylight. Through all of it I fell in love with Lakeshore and one day in the middle of the battlefield she proposed to me and I said yes!”

Despite Morgana’s smile, tears welled in her sadden eyes.

The Lakeshore in her hand returned the smile and Jim caught a tiny flame mimic a tear too.

“Our wedding was beautiful and eventually we got the idea on raising a child. We wanted a child of our own so badly that we began to research into magical ways to do so. By then we were all struggling against Gunmar’s forces. I told Lakeshore that I wanted our child to live in a world without war but she was getting impatient and disappointed in my reasoning,” Morgana explained. “So I did what I thought was best.”

It took Jim a few seconds for the answer to sink in because in the midst of this, he forgot that this isn’t just some nice story to listen to, this is a truth he’s not ready to hear.

He voiced all of his disgust, “You switched sides.”

“I joined the winning side.”

“You, you’re the reason babies are stolen from their homes, you started that and twisted their lives to be raised in Gunmar’s empire!”

Somehow she ignored his displeasure, caught in her own memories with a horrifying grin, “I did it to be a good mother and I did, I became the Mother of Monsters.”

“You took away the parenthood and childhood of other trolls and humans,” Jim sneered.

For all the frowns and unsettling smiles, the shocked look on Morgana’s face creeps Jim out the most.

“That’s,” she begins and expels a humorless laugh, “exactly what Lakeshore said.” The blank look remains as the old flame of Lakeshore disperses and she reaches the hand over to his face. She’s not bothered when he leans away, “You really are our child.”

“I,” he leans away from another hand wave, “_still_ don’t understand that! If you mean I’m your descendant, yeah, makes sense, Nimue’s your daughter-“

Morgana hisses, “That’s just it though, Lakeshore took her away from me! We never got the chance to be a family. Lakeshore ran off without another word. She took her spell books and the staff of Avalon and left without a trace for years. The war continues without her, I become the Pale Lady of the changelings and Merlin becomes the great wizard of Camelot. And then suddenly Prince Arthur speaks about meeting the Lady of the Lake.”

“Nimue,” Jim confirmed.

“Merlin got to her first, what with being in the royal court,” she said with bitterness, “and to no surprise he pits her against _me_. That old bastard attempts to manipulate my daughter into defeating _me_. Next he goes even further to try to silence _me_.”

Morgana holds up her emerald hand.

He stares at that and then to her sorrowful face.

This does match up with the history books he has read but Strickler told him about the power of narration, especially about the unreliable ones.

Morgana’s story is tragic but he knows that she never stopped her cruel deeds. She paints herself in a pitiful light to cast the blame off her and none of her actions are ever justified because the proof she’s presenting doesn’t mention any of her goodness.

What does appear as truth is that she is full of ancient magic that death cannot stop.

Her ghost is still sending clusters of sparkles into the motionless Angor Rot as she waits for Jim’s sympathy.

“That’s horrible,” Jim finds himself admitting, all of it really is despite the distrust.

Another empty laugh is hollered, “Trust me it gets worse. When Nimue finally learns the truth, what does she do? She tells me that I will never be her mother! That she has only one and that’s Lakeshore who, guess what, turns into a literal _lake_ to give Nimue life!”

“Huh,” Jim said, “_Lake_shore.”

Morgana slaps her forehead with her emerald hand, “That’s so not the point.” She removes her hand with a dismissing wave, “What the point is that Nimue explained it as if she was born in Lakeshore’s consciousness and the only way for her to have a physical form is for Lakeshore to turn herself into physical leyline.”

Jim blinked, “_Lake_shore is the _lake_ of the Lady of the _Lake_. Huh.”

“Would you stop that?”

“Sorry.”

“You see Jim you are the one that can reunite our family. You’re _connected_ to Lakeshore. When I say you are born of magic I wasn’t being dramatic. Only children of Nimue have accessed to Lakeshore’s leyline but you are also born with my magical signature of changelings. This all comes down to you, I’ve seen it,” she said with a knowing look that scares Jim.

“You’re talking about divination magic,” he said with a dry mouth.

“It was my dying action. I had to use the last of my strength on Earth before I start from scratch in the Spirit Realm. And you know what I saw? I saw you, my key to everything.” Her eyes are wide and in this ghostly form there’s something otherworldly in her green irises. “You are everywhere, I didn’t understand it at first but death gave me plenty of time to understand the fragments I saw.”

She reached out to hold his face again and this time, Jim can’t move away. He freezes when their eyes meet. There’s a pull in the intelligence in her gaze as she tells him, “Multiple timelines of our world and out of the ones I’ve summoned to answer my call, you were at the center of nearly all of them. There are images of you as fully human or fully troll. There were different Trollhunters too and most were faces you’d recognize. I didn’t understand why I saw it all but now I do. The person who you are now is the one I need.

“I saw all of those fragments to understand how important you are,” Morgana grins. “There is so much karmic destiny bounded to you, so many stories about you written by authors we cannot phantom. In this reality you are meant to be half of Lakeshore and half of me. No amount of magic will change that.”

Jim flinches at that, remembering the pain of golden light telling him he cannot be permanently human.

Still, Morgana finish it off by cheering, “You are the perfect child I’ve been waiting for!”

All Jim feels is dread and wishes he wasn’t here right now.

Toby really wishes he wasn’t here right now.

He and his friends are following Otto disguised as the director down the hallway of the changelings.

This is not good and yet they’re putting their trust in this guy to take them to the Creeper Sun cure.

If Otto ends up betraying them, which is honestly a likely possibility, Draal gets to knock him out but for now they walk.

The Janus Order agents stare at them, ready to question why their director is leading the prisoners away from the interrogation chambers. None of them dare to ask when Otto glares at them with their boss’ face. It’s pretty convincing despite the limp he walks with.

Nervousness is just building up in Toby when they do get stopped at the James’ personal lab.

“Director,” the agent begins curtly, “I thought I saw you head towards the travel gates.”

“You did, Esmeralda, I’m getting something from my lab first,” Otto replied smoothly, moving around her until she lays a firm hand on his shoulder.

She studies his face and then to the ‘prisoners’. Her face is blank but her voice is quiet in the thankfully empty hallway, “Give me one reason to not get security, Otto.”

Shit.

Draal drops the rope pretending to bind him in favor of looking intimidating and raising a fist.

Toby follows suit by whipping out his knife.

Claire smacks her forehead.

Apparently they should have faith in Otto because he answers with something Toby did not expect. “Stricklander is alive.”

Esmerelda remained neutral but gave them the tiniest of nods and walked past them.

“I knew you were a softie for Lander,” Not-Enrique whispers his perch on Draal’s shoulder. She flicks his nose in response as she leaves them.

Otto hurries them inside the labs with a turn of a key. The lab itself is pretty standard with science gizmos Toby does not want to touch. Their polymorph friend fiddles with the lights switch by twisting the panel like a knob. The cabinets on the side wall suddenly sink into the floor to reveal a steel door built within the walls.

“No troll other than the director can open this,” he reminded them, “I hope you human can do this.”

Draal, the muscle of the team, pushes Toby away from touching the door and went over to grab the handle. Immediately Toby recognizes the magic of some sort of protection or repelling spell that Barbara uses against goblins.

This spell is a lot meaner.

The door hums with electricity and suddenly Draal’s arm is zapped and his whole body is electrocuted.

Not-Enrique was thankfully off of Draal at this point and is oohing.

When Draal yanks his hand away his hair is super spiky, he’s tinged in lingering shocks, and there’s smoking coming off him. All Draal says is, “Ouch.”

Otto points weakly at him, “He’s um he’s not human? Is he like the new arrivals in town?”

Meanwhile the two real humans look at each other and the deadly door.

Toby gestures to it and said nicely, “Ladies first.”

“Ugh, really?”

Claire shakes her head and walks over to the door, tediously and slowly placing her hand on the handle and…

“Oh thank Guillermo,” Toby breathes with relief as nothing happens.

“Whew,” Claire exhales and turns to Otto, “So we just walk in and hope there’s no more traps for us?”

“Yes, the director is arrogant like that but also very organized,” Otto said with absolute certainty or it is all just one massive ploy. “He’ll keep the cure’s formula in a filing cabinet and remember my part of the deal.”

As Claire opens the door to see a short hallway leading to more rooms, Toby narrows his eyes at the polymorph, “In a secret lab is an already secret base, we’re supposed to find two,” he gulps down nausea to speak clearly again, “find two _eye balls?_ Are they like floating in a test tube?”

“Yeah what if there’s more than one set?” Not-Enrique questioned, unnecessarily adding more grossness to this reality.

This time it is Claire’s turn to gag silently.

Otto rubbed the palms of his hands sadly, “You’ll know it when you see it. Now go.”

As the humans walk on they hear Draal say, “If they get hurt, you will be missing other body parts.”

There are three rooms for Toby and Claire to pick from. The one on the left is obviously a laboratory due to the windowed door. The two on the right have no labels or hints to what’s inside.

Toby shrugs and opens one to just see a big storage room. On one side are shelves and filing cabinets and storage boxes. On the other are floor-to-ceiling refrigerators with glass doors to show off science beakers and fluids and a bunch of other stuff.

This is totally the right room.

“I call dips on the filing cabinets,” Claire calls, shielding her eyes from even having the weird stuff in the fancy fridges in her peripheral vision.

“Oh come on,” he whines, already searching the fridges and yep, that’s human heart in a liquid tube, “I’m going to be sick. This guy is crazy!”

“Well he is organized,” she said, looking through the ‘C’ drawer. “Do you think it’s under Creeper Sun or some long science name?”

“Otto didn’t give us any other hint so I hope not.” Toby on reflex is making weird noises in his throat when something moving catches his eyes.

There is just a fish tank in a bottom shelf full of green algae next to a cube suspended with wires just hanging out, but to Toby’s dismay he has to look out for body parts.

“I can’t believe this is what he’s been doing after all these years,” Toby can’t help but complain.

He knew coming down here was only going to make him anger but now he’s just bitter and creeped out and he doesn’t want Barbara or Jim to see this. James Sturges was supposed to be a good doctor and a good father to his family but no, this shit is happening.

For eleven years Toby has hated this man and finally seeing him in person only to witness how crazy he is, Toby feels like there are more reasons to hate him.

Down the line of fridges Toby finally reaches the one with eye balls.

Yes, Not-Enrique was right.

Oh why does he have to be right?

There are five pairs of eye balls in their own little septic tank.

“Hey Claire, which one should I take?” He asked, really hoping this isn’t happening.

She risks a glance over and winces, “That’s uh, that’s all on you T-P.” Then Claire gives him a wobbly smile and a thumbs up, “Don’t worry, I believe in you.”

“Please don’t do this to me,” he begs, dragging his fingers down his cheeks, “I’m just supposed to pick one? Otto was just cryptic about me knowing when I see- _IT’S MOVING!”_

The two of them scream at the red iris pair start throwing itself at the tube, making a rattling tapping sound.

Toby stares, jaw dropped in horror. He turns to Claire who’s just as horrified but at least she has a file tucked safely under her arm.

Great now he has to do his part of the mission.

It’s pretty anticlimactic as Toby just opens the fridge and holds the rattling eye balls’ tube. They exit the secret lab without another word until they meet up with the trolls.

“Why?” Toby asks flatly. He’s just wants to get out of here now.

Otto shifts into his true form, eagerly taking the tube and carefully scooping his eyes out and sets them in their rightful place.

For all the pain and misery they saw Otto go through, it’s kind of nice to see him crying tears of joy.

But like… it’s kind of boggling Toby’s mind to see eye balls _within_ the troll’s hands and the tears are just spilling.

Otto wipes the tears off (it’s just rubbing his hands together) and returns to his director form, “Thank you. As promised, let’s get out of here.”

The walk out is surreal as nothing bad is happening and they make it to the elevator and the travel agency lobby.

Before they bolt out of here, Otto says one last thing, “You all have no reason to continue to listen to me but if you can, tell Stricklander I’m sorry.”

It feels wrong to see James’ face etched with guilt but Toby knows better.

Still though, Toby counters, “Why are you guys following Sturges in the first place?”

Otto reacts the same way Strickler did when Toby confronted him why he follows Bular.

The changeling is frozen in terror, despair in his eyes, and plain helpless at the idea of resisting.

Toby knows that in the end, Strickler took initiative because of his motivation and love for Jim and Barbara. He doesn’t know what it’ll take to push Otto and the other agents away from their director.

“Yeah,” Not-Enrique said with a righteous glint in his eyes, “We’ll pass the message.”

Kanjigar is so thankful that the gyre is performing at its top speed.

Apparently the key to finding Jim was through the amulet for some reason.

Well, the main reason is magic but the technicalities will be revealed later.

Anyway Barbara, practically carried by Vendel, rushed over to him to perform a tracking spell on the amulet. That last flare of blue magic was all she could manage before passing out.

Vendel assured he’ll take care of her, something about her saying she needs to be at home, and Kanjigar is off with his amulet acting as a compass.

He didn’t realize it at first but because the amulet is infused on an empathic level with Kanjigar, the tracking spell has a direct connection to his mind. It’s like the Trollhunter is acting on instincts alone to take the gyre and drive all the way down the tunnel leading to the old lands.

There’s no visual guide that’s navigating Kanjigar to the gyre station of the Heartstone in human’s Great Britain. It’s more like a gut feeling telling him where to go as Kanjigar rushes out of the cave system.

Kanjigar decides there is no time or reason to make his presence known to the market’s elder so he takes the shortest path to the surface. Barbara had the foresight to hand him the horngazel to get out of there.

He did have a minor doubt about it being a horngazel of a different Heartstone but apparently it works in the end.

The amulet pulses and tugs his mind to the ocean, leaving Kanjigar no other choice but to run as fast as he can. The terrain of the forest soon leads to a foggy bay port village and by the time Kanjigar is at the outskirts of the forest side, he’s exhausted and hyped on adrenaline.

It doesn’t help that the tracking spell is at the forefront of his mind, urging him onwards even though his body is beginning to slow.

He makes it to a rocky coastline far away from the busy port and the spell is telling him to swim.

Deya’s grace, this is just crazy.

Kanjigar’s ready to do a running jump into the cold sea until a boat horn blasts nearby.

Heading his way is a motorized speedboat with only one person aboard. The driver shouldn’t be familiar but the way he stares at Kanjigar is. It’s a look of pure annoyance on something that cannot be helped.

“Hello Trollhunter, we finally meet!” The man pulls the boat up to the troll, a pained smile on his face, “I see we have the same idea on finding Angor Rot.”

Summoning the armor, Kanjigar points Daylight at the changeling, “What game are you playing at James Sturges?”

Glaring, James assured, “No games, I’m looking for Angor Rot but I don’t exactly have map. Then I got a message of you being spotted running in my direction.” That frown morphs into a deadly smile, “So you got a map and I got a boat. What do you say, Kanjigar the Courageous?”

“I don’t understand,” Kanjigar admits. “Isn’t Angor Rot making the trade with you?”

James shakes his head, still smiling grimly, “Nope, he’s going to someone we changelings are sort of forbidden to seek. Now Kanjigar, you gotta make a choice. Ride with me or let me follow your slow progress while Angor takes Jim’s soul.”

Growling, Kanjigar makes his decision and jumps aboard.

The boat ride goes like this:

James is the driver and Kanjigar can’t toss him over because the Trollhunter doesn’t know how to drive a boat. It’s not like he can just use Daylight like an ore.

Kanjigar is the navigator but just points in the direction the tracking spell is telling him.

When they reach endless sea in a thick fog, sticking to one direction, Kanjigar asks, “Who is this person Angor Rot’s seeking while you cannot?”

“Oh just the Pale Lady,” James shrugs and surprisingly hasn’t done any gloating or witty banter Kanjigar expected. No time for jokes when Jim is in danger apparently.

“We’re going to the wizard responsible for creating the changelings,” he slowly said, a tad unnerved at the idea.

“Yeah,” James confirmed with a shaky breath, “and then we started a whole religion for her and no one dares to ever find her because who would be so arrogant to knock on your god’s door and ask her for more power?” He shivers at that, “I hope we get there before Angor. I do not want to deal with him having a soul, a magic bloodline soul no doubt.”

The Trollhunter narrows his eyes at him, “What about Jim?”

James raised a brow, “I told you, don’t want Angor to have a dangerous soul.”

“I meant your son’s safety,” he growled.

James scratches his cheek, thinking aloud, “Yeah that does sound bad. I heard Lake Spawns don’t like her.”

What.

In one swift move, the sword of Daylight is at James’ throat.

The changeling didn’t dare gulp but his eye darted around with fear. His entire being froze, even stalling the engine to let the still ocean rock the boat into level balance.

“A word of advice from one bad father to another,” the Trollhunter said with freezing angry that will make his sister proud, “don’t say tell your son that you’re scared of him.”

The night he told Draal he didn’t want him to be the next Trollhunter, underneath that angry and disappointment was fear. Not for his son’s safety but on how would spite and mistreatment shape a Draal into a Trollhunter?

Now there’s a coward at his side. A troll who clings to power as a shield because he’s scared of some monster Jim is supposed to be.

Kanjigar moves the blade away, pointing west, “We’re close.”

James doesn’t speak another word, revering up the engine all the way to a lonely rocky mountain jutted through the ocean. The fog lessens as they reach the cave’s mouth. The boat engine’s is turned off for stealth as they dock at the sandy edge.

The two silently make their way to the cave entrance where they can easily peep out and see a woman wreath in flames doing a ritual to inject energy into a dormant Angor Rot. On top of the altar Jim is bound by shadows and even from a distance, Kanjigar sees how his troll ears flicker with terror and dread.

“That’s Jim,” James whispers with some sort of unfamiliarity and surprise, “he looks a bit like me.” Tension snaps him back into critical analysis, “Okay it looks like it’s not a soul transfer, that’s good. Instead the Pale Lady is creating a new one inside Angor Rot, like putting all your ingredients into a blender. Once she’s completed the recipe, she’s ready for a soul smoothie.”

Kanjigar regards him with squinted eyes, “I don’t know what a smoothie is but I’ve heard about blenders and I think I have a plan.”

The changeling raises a brow, “Really? Okay, honestly I’m open for anything.”

“That’s an excellent choice of words,” Kanjigar grins.

The Trollhunter easily picks up the changeling, stands in a good angle, and throws James as hard as he can.

All they have to do is knock over the blender to let its contents spill out.

In this case, the screaming form of James is a fast projectile that successfully crashing into Angor Rot. The sparkling light is disrupted and returns back into the Pale Lady’s hands.

She looks at her hands, puzzled and back up to watch Kanjigar come running, jump over the disoriented changeling and troll assassin, and get to Jim.

“Kanjigar,” Jim stares at him with wide teary eyes with an equally wide smile, “what the hell?”

“I’m getting you out of here!” He tosses Jim over his shoulders and makes a break for the cave opening.

“No,” the chilling voice of seething rage freezes Kanjigar. The tracking spell in the amulet is alerting Kanjigar of the Pale Lady’s presence but something else within that tugging is new, responding to the woman.

Kanjigar holds a hand over the amulet, “What, what is this?”

“No,” she continues, her green eyes burning with a brilliant light, “I am no letting the last bit of Merlin’s legacy take more away from me.”

“Nimue, that what’s you’re talking,” Jim trails off and then corrects himself, “wait no, you don’t mean her. This is about…”

Whatever it is, Jim can’t say it.

Kanjigar wants to scold him for even talking to the Paly Lady but there’s this cold feeling spreading throughout his head.

The amulet of Daylight pulses with this sudden tension in him.

The Pale Lady stares with endless malice and asks calmly, “Trollhunter, do you know what Merlin used to forge your amulet?”

That is one of the wonders of the world.

Merlin is known for his ingenuity and unwavering determination for magic and yet no one has uncovered the depths of Daylight. This ghost of gold speaks with a knowing spite and loads of resentment.

She floats in the fire, poised in a graceful stance with one arm out stretched to them.

Kanjigar’s eyes single out the emerald prosthetic and speaks with equal horror and confidence, “Your hand.”

Where once cold rage was, absolute lava is in her roar, _“AND MY WEDDING RING!”_

The crackling, burning fire bursts and expands to the cave’s roof, her image huge and looming and feral.

Behind them, Angor Rot rises with his own unhinged battle cry.

Unable to harm the ring bearer, James is pushed aside as the assassin dash to the Trollhunter. His staff collides with Daylight as Kanjigar deflects the hits away from Jim still hanging on to his shoulders.

“Pale Lady, give me my soul!” Angor begs, attacking with great ferocity, “I brought you your child and the amulet has brought itself here! I demand my soul!”

“You demand _nothing_, Angor,” James orders, “I think you had enough fun for today.” The changeling bows to his queen to hide his quivering knees, “My Pale Lady, I hold the Inferna Copula and if you let me have it for just a little while longer, it’ll be worth the wait.”

As the fight continues, Kanjigar can barely pay any attention to the Pale Lady’s slight nod. “You are half of the reason Jim exists. I supposed I’ll allow you more time as Angor’s owner.”

“No!” The assassin screams, unleashing all of his anger on the one troll he can actually hit. His eyes meet Kanjigar’s. “You worked with James Sturges, you helped him. I just wanted _my soul_ back!”

His venomous snarl reaches the guilt building up inside the Trollhunter.

Kanjigar’s supposed to help protect other and here he is, prolonging the torture of a suffering no one else in the world can imagine.

That moment of hesitation costed Kanjigar, freezing him as Angor takes another swing.

A blue hand springs out and catches the staff’s swing. With the momentum and a strong tug, Jim snatches Angor’s staff out of the assassin’s hands.

Holding on tightly to Kanjigar, Jim grits his teeth and summons the shadows around them to form a portal at their feet. Instead of effortlessly falling through like how they’ve seen Angor do it, they’re falling at the pace of quicksand.

The shadows begin to swallow them but not fast enough before Angor is practically on top of them. Kanjigar does his best to knock him away as Jim tries to focus on the portal.

“Angor move out of the way!”

Being in his face, Kanjigar sees how the assassin only has one second of fury before obedience forces him away. The next second is spent being caught off guard at the sight of James running at them and tackling Kanjigar down.

“You!?” is all Jim’s able to gasp out.

The three of them sink into the Shadow Realm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, writing the tarot card stuff and explaining time magic really motivated me into wanting to bring in 3Below's time loop plot. Also the meanings for each card is fairly simplistic once googled. But its symbolism does the job.
> 
> omg, storytime with Morgana, I hope you guys liked it! 
> 
> She's just so lonely, the one nightmare for a drama queen like her. Of course Morgana gonna spiel into a monologue with her possessive nature. 
> 
> That and I explained my little story about Gaylen's core originating on earth. I could not pass the opportunity to have Morgana say, "A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away!"
> 
> Also I could not resist a meta thing where Morgana sees every Trollhunter fic in the archives as other timelines. 
> 
> The JO stuff just dips into spy drama for me, just a bit and I'll happily throw Toby into it. 
> 
> So I made this the Angor Management parallel chapter simply due to a Trollhunter and his changeling foe working together to stop Angor Rot. And oh boy do Kanjigar and James have bad fathering habits, James' being ten times worse. 
> 
> Them meeting was cool but Kanjigar seeing Morgana was something I really wanted. What better way to have them met than to have Barbara unknowingly use a tracking spell not on the amulet but of a key ingredient composing it.
> 
> Sure Morgana lost her hand but more devastating, she lost her wedding ring, the last thing she had of Lakeshore. 
> 
> This has to be my favorite Kangiar vs Angor battle yet with the guilt and seeing Angor as a beaten dog trying to escape. 
> 
> Huh, Jim meets one crazy parent and now gets to meet his own crazy dad after all these years...
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	10. A Million Other Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone needs a break from the troll shenanigans. Although they weren't prepared for this collision course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow it has been a while since I've updated this fic. 
> 
> I'm still working on it, slowly but surely.
> 
> Either way, I wish everyone the best as we make to the new year!

For the short amount of time observing how Angor Rot use the um, what did he call it?

Right the skathe-hrun.

…Okay, Jim’s just gonna call it the Shadow Staff.

There’s only so much guessing for Jim to understand how it works. Angor Rot said the staff will connect to him and portals work through emotional anchors.

So there’s only one thing to do.

Jim has a tight grasp on the Shadow Staff and hyper focuses as much as he can on an emotional anchor.

Otherwise Jim’s attention will be on their hitchhiker who is still hanging onto Kanjigar.

He does not want to be stuck in the Shadow Realm with Kanjigar and James Sturges.

Eleven years ago Jim would’ve done anything to be by his father’s side but now…

Just… no.

Getting to work, Jim concentrates and lets his magic just flow into the staff and expel out. The images in the shadows start to form and suddenly they’re flying through the darkness at a breakneck speed.

A portal opens in their path and soon enough, the three of them are crashing into Jim’s living room where his mom is sitting on the couch with an ice pack held at her forehead.

Barbara blinks, “What the hell?”

In Jim’s groggy state, his eyes are too sensitive to the room’s lighting. He covers his eyes with his hand so he doesn’t see Barbara leap off the couch to hug him.

“Jim! Are you alright? Did Angor hurt you? You casted Death Ward without a conduit! I told you not to do that!”

“Can’t breathe,” the boy wheezes in the crushing hug.

“I’m so, so happy you’re okay! Kanjigar, you did it and-“

Her excitement and joy is gone once she lays eyes on the man Kanjigar is threatening with Daylight.

Eleven years ago Jim wondered if his birthday really was the last time his parents were in the same room.

“James,” Barbara whispered, her arms drop from the hug but she squeezes Jim’s hand.

The man takes a careful step away from the blade at his chest and takes a deep breath, “Hi Barbara, you look well.” The fake smile doesn’t reach his eyes but once he looks to Jim, James gulps with a shaky and nervous bit of the lip he said, “Jim, you’ve certainly grown.”

There could be a million ways for Jim to react to this.

He could ask Kanjigar to yeet him like he did to stop the soul spell or have Mom do it. Another possibility is to scream at him, tell that man has no right to be in their house. James Sturges should not even be in their lives ever again. He walked out and should have never returned.

What Jim does do is dump his exhausted body on the couch because he does not want to do this standing up.

“I learned a lot of thing in the last few hours and you being here is just,” Jim rubs his horns, stressed, “Not helping, not one little bit, at all.”

“I think stopping Angor from stabbing the Trollhunter was helpful.”

Barbara’s fists start to swell up with blue energy, “James, you sent a soul bound assassin after my family.”

“I didn’t send him after Jim,” James nodded over to Kanjigar, “Trollhunter here was always the target.”

Daylight inches closer to touch his chest, cutting off a seam in his lab coat. Kanjigar growls, “I am her family. A lot of things have changed without you, James Sturges. You have no voice to complain or make excuses.”

“Okay, first off, why is he even here?” Barbara frustratedly asks to Kanjigar.

“Angor Rot had his own agenda on bringing Jim to the Pale Lady unbeknownst to his master,” Kanjigar explains. “Sturges found me on my way there and so I threw him over to break the soul smoothie spell.”

Jim and Barbara stare at the estrange man who shrugged helplessly, “I tried making an analogy.”

Barbara rubs the bridge of her nose.

“Anyway, Kanjigar and Angor fought and Jim got hold of the skathe-hrun to escape. I just so happened to make it in time for the ride,” James explains.

“Good, now that’s cleared up,” Barbara holds out her hand and suddenly the Heartstone spear flies into her waiting hands. She shifts into a battle stance and aims at her ex, “Why did you even come back to Arcadia, James?”

“I got a new job,” he grins, not at all fazed at the two deadly weapons at his face.

Seeing that innocent smile and knowing the truth that someone was beaten up senselessly brings bile in Jim’s stomach.

That’s the same exact smile James gave him when he promised to build a moped together…

Eleven years ago.

Each passing year Jim clings to the memories of this stranger less and less but the pain and misery remain with him and Barbara to this very day.

Jim’s so tired of it and to add on Morgana and Angor, Jim just feels so exhausted of everything.

“Mom, Kanjigar, stop,” Jim finds himself saying. He stares directly at James with a bitter frown that makes James flinch and drop the charisma. “I had a long time to think about the day I ever see you again.

You broke promises, trust, and your marriage for some goal I don’t care about. You did all of that for power or a plan or a million other things but right now I don’t want you in my life, James. Get out of my mom’s house.”

James wasn’t intimidated by the weapons but right now he is as shocked as Jim feels drained.

He tries to form words but nothing comes out, just hapless and uncertain on how to talk to his own son.

In the end the changeling nods and slowly walks to the door.

“Hey James,” Barbara hollers, the spear held in a tight grip, “next time I see you, you better have your child support papers.”

They hear a quiet huff and then the click of the door.

Barbara is again at Jim’s side, hugging him protectively, “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he mutters. He feels Kanjigar start patting his head and Jim nuzzles back, “I’m good, just tired from using the Shadow Staff.”

Kanjigar lets out a sigh of relief but there’s still concern stuck on him, “Good to hear. Jim, what happened when I got to the cave?”

“Oh boy,” Jim rubs his temples. “Okay, so Mom, in the books and tomes about Nimue, did any of it ever mentions her mom Lakeshore? Well here’s a long story.”

Aja is getting impatient and she doesn’t even know what it is.

She knows at this moment her planet is under the tyrant lead of General Morando, her parents are still in stasis, Mothership is in need of repairs, and Stuart needs her to test taste his latest burrito baby.

There could be a million other things she should do to improve these situations but here we are preparing for a royal competition for the school.

It is all fun, don’t get her wrong but there’s still this sense of dread knowing her world is in constant danger and not knowing how to fix it.

Half of the reasons the coup happened occurred before she was cleaved from the Akiridion-5 Planet Core. There are political angles, militarism aspects, and personal gains for this planet wide raid and Aja doesn’t understand any of it.

<strike>If...</strike>

…When Mama and Papa are fully recovered, maybe they’ll tell her why this all happened.

She’ll listen and pay attention. She won’t fall asleep or run away. Aja promises.

In the meanwhile, she’s attending the latest completion.

Just standing and around doing nothing with only the objective to be the last one still touching the automobile of Senior Uhl.

Krel gave her a bored expression from the small crowd.

“This is utterly unentertaining,” her brother complains. “They’re just going to stand and talk or goad each other away.”

The Tobias Domzalski shrugged, “Eh, after the weekend we had, I think today is perfect.”

“Really,” Darci asked, “What happened?”

The boy froze up and Aja noticed that next to her Jim was sending his best friend a really harsh frown.

“Um,” Toby droned and turns to Claire for help.

She smiles brightly, “Oh just saw an old Spanish film and we didn’t expect horror.”

“Cool,” Mary commented, appearing just as bored as Krel. “Hey Jim, how was your weekend?”

He stares with an empty smile, “It was okay.”

“Enough of the chit chat!” The Palchuk yelled on the other side of the truck, “This is a game and I intend to win it!”

“Steve, we’re just standing,” Eli said calmly.

“I know that buttsnack and I came prepared,” Steve bragged.

As he explained his tactic of a portable room of rest as his pants, everyone around gagged and turned green.

“Lively,” Aja said. She did wonder if humans would ever develop away from the need of exporting waste matter.

“See Aja, agrees with me!”

“Aja please tell me you don’t actually agree with him,” Jim begs to her.

“This has the potential of success,” Aja explains. “Intimidating the enemy, aggressive and goading behavior and bad scenting aroma are all classic signs of a dangerous tactician.”

Krel calls out, “He’s also a buffoon!”

“Yes,” she nods, “that too.”

“Ha!” Steve ignores the buffoon comment and points at Jim, “See that Lake? I’m going to win this and you’ll just end up kissing my butt!”

“Wow Steve,” Jim chuckles and this time the lightness in his voice does reach his eyes, “that’s a very forward move and you didn’t even ask me on a date yet.”

It’s very curious how humans can make their faces red.

Steve also lost all verbal English linguistics.

Meanwhile Mary raises her hand up only for Jim to slap it with his.

Humans, there is still so much to learn.

“I’m flattered,” the boy continues teasing, “but Claire beat you to that.”

“Awe,” Principal Rivera coos, “that’s so cute! Just like how I got with my husband but with fewer supervillains.”

Aja watches the other students just blatantly ignore that detail. Maybe they’re used to it?

When she and Krel landed in the principal’s office the lady was a bit eccentric and enthusiastic with curiosity over them. That’s reasonable and yet somehow their improvised answers of Cantaloupia and the blank bots as their parents satisfied her questions.

This principal has done many things Aja never expected of an education director, especially giving students so much liberty and freedom during these Spring Fling events.

The Akiridon’s confusion grows when a new face walks up to them.

“Strickler, what are you doing here?” Jim asks with a surprisingly deep level of concern that scares Aja in its familiarity.

Mary caught Aja titling her head and whispered to her, “That’s Mr. Strickler, Jim’s dad figure.” Jim, still standing right between them, sends a pointed look at Mary. “Hey I’m not wrong.”

Before Jim’s figure of dad can even get a word out, the principal is face to face Mr. Stickler, um actually face to chest.

“Walter,” the principal looks up with a tight lipped glare, “You ghost off for months and send a colleague of yours to take your spot?” She frivolously shakes her head in disapproval but it cracks away as she laughs, “That’s my plan!”

“Frida, you’ll never change,” Mr. Strickler chuckles and readjusts his suit jacket, “I promise I’ll explain the legal business. In fact it’s actually that same colleague who called me here.”

Mr. Strickler waves over to the substitute history teacher that has a tendency to outright avoid the Tarrons. Aja really thought that she would be the one to question their Cantaloupia story and call out their lies. 

Instead this Miss Mercer accepted it all but Aja swears the teacher is suspicious of them.

There’s just this look in her eyes that remind Aja of the royal tutors who dislike Aja’s lack of engagement but doesn’t want to complain to her parents about it in fear of failure.

Miss Mercer greets the man with a careful and nervous wave, “Hello Strickler, I’m really happy to see you again.”

He nods and Aja senses his wariness from over here. “And how are your eyes?”

In reaction, Miss Mercer fiddled with her hands, rubbing circles in the palms.

Meanwhile, Jim’s neck snaps over to Toby who loudly gasped. The brunet shifts his gasp into a coughing fit as Claire slaps his back a few times, some of which seem a tad too harsh due to her uncaring expression when Toby nearly falls over.

The three of them share meaningful looks that Aja cannot understand for the life of hers.

“They’re better, great even like everything is starting to feel right.” Miss Mercer looks away and her eyes flickered over in the students’ direction, “Thank you for asking and I’m sorry about everything. Are you and your friend feeling better too?”

“The soup recipe you sent us was an immense help, thank you.”

“Wow,” Principal Rivera said, smiling politely, “that is a lot of good news. Now, I believe you’re here about getting your job back? Well let’s waste no more time!” She quickly guides the history teachers back in the main campus and shouts to Senior Uhl, “You’re in charge!”

“Frida, I’m judging the Spanish club’s debate session soon!” Senior Uhl yells back but it’s useless. He slaps his forehead, dragging it over his entire face, and then points at the royal court, “There better not be any scratches on my Susannah when I get back.”

With that he promptly left six children alone, touching said truck while their audience has already grew bored and all who remained were just their friend group.

The slowness of this challenge is really irritating Aja above all.

Five mekron passes by and nothing changes.

“Ugh, I thought these challenges are supposed to be rigorous and life threatening likes that film of demeaning girls!” Aja groaned.

Not at all fazed, Mary responds, “I know, right? Mean Girls gave me unrealistic expectations of high school.”

“Which part?” Shannon asked as she poked her head from around the truck’s side, “The burn book or pink fashion tips?”

“Remembering math by sitting behind a cute boy,” Mary solemnly lowers her head.

“Wait there’s actually one way to prove that,” Toby said and turns to the smartest mathematician here, “Krel, who sits in front of you in Miss Janeth’s class?”

He returns the utter most unimpressed look ever to be on a flesh skin face, “Uh, it’s you Domzalski. You know that because you constantly turn around to ask me for help.”

To the group, Toby waves his arm at Krel, “See? Proof! I’m the cute boy that helps Krel do math.”

Majority of them laugh and even if Aja doesn’t get the joke, seeing Krel spluttering to correct Toby’s logic is hilarious in it of itself.

It’s definitely a break in pace as everyone’s patience are wearing thin and whatever tension in the air is nulled by the happy attitude. For the last few days, Aja noticed her new friends slowly being drained or stressed by whatever struggles they’ve been dealing with.

Even if she’s curious there’s no real desire to have Krel rebuild the mind reading goggles. It is just more organic to actually talk to them and Aja loves getting to know her friends.

Mary has been apparently taking any extra credit projects she can from Senior Uhl which were all fortunately related to giving Aja and Krel tours around the Hispanic exhibits around town.

For Darci, she explains she has two keltons of worries growing ever since her father of law enforcement lost his left leg. It’s still a strange thought on how humans can lose limps and never regain it back.

If this planet has no technological advancement of molecular regeneration then they truly lack the equipment needed to fix Mother.

Aja knows the basic details of the Jim Lake.

On her first wardon of school he gifted her chocolate cook-keys and a kind smile. None of that ever implied a high charisma to be a king nominee but then again the Palchuk and the Pepperjack are here so maybe Aja cannot predict human social standards.

The Domzalski from earlier is overly friendly and is easily impressed by Aja’s burrito eating skills and Krel’s bluntness. He appears too human of many expressive emotions from how dramatic he can be.

As for the Claire Nunez, Aja knows a strong presence when she sees one. Confident stance, high intelligence, and head strong but most of those descriptions are from Mary. She sounds lively but if she’s as smart as Mary says then any mishap of Aja’s could lead into Claire’s suspension.

Speaking of suspension, Aja knows of Krel’s opinion on Steve Palchuk and Eli Pepperjack. They’re an unlikely duo with opposite personalities that somehow meld well together. Still though, they’re the closest humans to be wary of the Tarrons. Krel especially wants to keep careful watch over them and Aja will humor him about it and assist when she can.

In the end, Aja knows it might be a risk to even befriend each and every one of them.

But a risk never stopped Aja from doing what she wanted.

Danger though, that’s something she should have taken account of because there’s a sudden boom of air rushing down at them.

While the human students state their confusion, the Akiridions lock eyes as they recognize the almost silent hum of an intergalactic spacecraft.

It’s finally happening, the end of their peaceful days.

Where ever the ship is, it doesn’t matter due to camouflage cloaking. Somewhere above is the source of infamous sonic boom cannon, vibrating air in their direction and creating pulsating air pressure at them.

Aja can only guess that’s only a warning blast for the humans, to scare them out. But that outcome appears to be unlikely when she catches the guarded and almost annoyed look in Jim’s eyes.

“I think we should all head inside,” Aja told them sternly, leaving no room for argument.

Jim squints at her but nods, “Yeah, you’re right.”

While the others did voice their confusion, Shannon actually does takes off her hand from the truck and the moment Jim does too Steve laughs at them.

Steve laughs, “Ha! She psyched you both out! Nice one Aja!”

“No, that’s not!” Aja yells at him and that’s all she can get out before a nearby tree is shot down by rapid energy shots of a battalion grade riffle. “Oh kleb no! Krel!”

The line of fire is heading right towards the students. Shannon and Darci are already running to the school buildings where Toby and Claire wave them over but Mary is currently frozen in fear and Aja can’t shake her out of it.

The siblings had only one plan if they’re ever attacked and that’s to lead the danger as far away as possible from the humans. Aja made a move to start running away but Krel actually ran to her side with one of his gadgets in hand.

“I got an idea,” Krel reassures her and quickly gets inside the truck to the controls. Aja doesn’t think to question or doubt and instead pushes Mary into the truck’s open back. Then Jim and Steve jump in after them once the engine roars to life.

By the school gates they hear Claire shout, “What are you doing?!”

The energy shots are getting closer and each round of fire shakes the ground, filling Aja with panic.

She has her serrator but she trusts Krel to get them out of here.

“I’m realizing that I don’t know how to operate this vehicle!” Krel truthfully announces.

“Little brother,” Aja warns through gritted teeth and she squishes her face into the tiny window that’s behind the truck’s two seats.

Before she could yell more, Eli Pepperjack is scooting Krel into the passenger side as he takes the steering wheel, “Leave it to me, Krel!” The boy easily handles the manual controls and the truck is revving up, “It’s time to _Tokyo Drift!_”

The force of the truck suddenly moving nearly pushes the four teenagers out of the back. Fortunately Jim has one arm around Mary as he grips the side of truck bed while Steve collides with Aja into the other corner.

“What the hell is going on?” Steve yells over the wind as they vaguely hear Krel navigating Eli through town.

From above there’s another barrage of the riffle turret shooting down at them.

Aja pushes Steve to curl down and she turns to Jim, “Take cover!”

There’s a split second where Jim looks at her, like really looks at her like he knows she’s wearing a mask. It’s gone when Mary buries her head into the crook of Jim’s neck, squealing in fear as the energy shots hit the truck’s side.

Jim protectively shields Mary’s head with his arms as they follow Aja’s order, ducking down and hopefully out of range the ship’s view.

The queen-in-waiting stands up and take this chance to activate the shield mode of her serrator right before the onslaught of weaponized hard light energy fires at them.

Aja knows her fair amount of military weaponry due to the technology lessons Krel always strives in. Nearly all of that particular range of energy generators comes from Akiridion-5 and this ship appears to be engineered very similarly to her home’s expertise. 

It’s one thing to learn about all of this and another to see it right before her eyes as her brother and friends are in danger.

Eli’s driving skills are a double edge sword as the truck takes tight turns on street corners, making Aja loses her balance a few times when she switches from shield to blaster.

“Kleb!” Aja curses as she fires off her serrator at any weird shimmer in the air. It’s hard enough without any real weapons training but the constant moving of the truck is just the worst.

The good news is that Eli has taken the less crowded streets and now is driving them across the canal bridge. She’s so grateful that Krel is lessening the risk of being caught by earthling’s law enforcement at the very least. As for the suspension of the four humans with them, she can deal with that later.

Right now though, Aja lands a few lucky shots at the camouflaged spaceship only because she catches the telltale sparks of a light cannon whirling. She has seen from experience of Krel’s rather loud tinkering fails to know how powerful a miniature functioning cannon can be.

His entire lab exploded from just a prototype.

Now the real deal is charging up right before her eyes.

Aja switches the serrator to its shield, “Little brother, we need to get out of range now!”

Krel poked his head out of the truck’s window, “No time, power up your serrator!”

She really wishes she had more time to angrily ask how she can possibly do that. Her only reference of that is when Varvatos maximized the defense of his shield on the day her parents destabilized from their core.

Taking a wild guess, Aja hold the serrator with both hands and opens up the pathways in her hard light form to link her core to her serrator. She feels the energy pulsing under her disguised skin as it pours into her weapon and suddenly the range of her shield becomes five times bigger and denser, covering the whole vehicle.

At the same time the cannon fires at them and a big blinding ball of light collides with the serrator shield.

The impact of it knocks the truck into the air as the shield shatters and Aja is no longer standing firming and instead is airborne.

She’s free falling alone for only two sektons before Jim’s outstretched hand catches her and pulls her into the huddled group in the truck’s back. 

In her frazzled state, Aja barely acknowledges a shining gold light coming from Jim’s hand that’s holding the metal rim tightly. What she does feel though is a strange gravitational pull attaching her to the truck, preventing her from falling out again.

The truck has an ugly landing on the street pavement but Eli’s driving softens the blow.

“I think we’re in the clear,” Krel shouts loudly, “Pepperjack take us back to the school!”

The drive back has everyone calming down, just a bit as Mary and Steve have stopped crying at the very least.

“Aja,” Mary crawls over to place her hands on Aja’s shoulders and stare her dead in the eyes, “what the hell just happened?!”

“I know I owe some sort of explanation,” Aja admits grimly with the truth on the tip of her human tongue.

Krel on the other hand bangs on the back window and shouts, “We have the rites to remain silent!”

“Shut up Krel!” Mary screams back and Aja has never seen her brother look so surprised.

“Krel, do you remember what I told you,” Eli says with a serious tone and Krel gulps. “I want to protect Arcadia. What are you going to do about it?”

“I’m doing my best,” Krel breathed out and Aja can hear the stress in his voice. Endless nights of attempting to repair the Mothership and keeping Aja company when she finds herself back in the stasis chambers of their parents. “But sometimes it doesn’t feel like it’ll be enough.”

Aja can’t help but think the same.

What is her best? Has she ever tried to be better? Has anything she has ever done before amounted to anything other than just selfish desires and running away?

Aja takes one of Mary’s hands and tells her, “Our parents were severely hurt and now there are people who want to do the same to me and my brother.”

Half of her is waiting for Mary’s to be unsatisfied with that answer and the other half feels shame at being endangering and how it justifies the many confusing insults she has gotten for merely having an accent.

Suddenly there’s arms wrapped around Aja and Mary’s long hair is brushing her face.

“I can’t believe you’re living like this!” Mary squeezes her more but let’s go to look her in the eyes, “Okay, if you tell Darci’s dad he can help you out more like, I dunno security? Are you in a witness protection program?”

“And you end up in Arcadia because what, it’s the safest place on Earth?” Jim had a sharp laugh that he quickly turns into a coughing fit. That empty and pained look is back on his face, “Yep, only in Arcadia this would happen.”

Steve scoots next to Akiridion, “Aja, are you okay?”

The blond boy has expressed a multitude of emotions that Aja cannot begin to describe or understand but this one right now makes her feel soft and squishy as her human skin. With the three concerning gazes on her, Aja feels cornered up and tempted to jump out of the moving vehicle to get away from this weird vulnerability of hers.

She shouldn’t deserve these looks of pity.

When Aja and Krel had to explain their parental situation to their principal and Senior Uhl, it didn’t feel so personal. Maybe the presence of the disguised blank bots lessened the tension unlike how bounty hunters intruded onto their lives.

Her mouth twitches, like she’s ready to say words but in her head it’s blank and there’s nothing she can come up with to say.

It’s a simple question and yet she’s struggling.

Aja has never felt so human before.

By the time Aja finally settles on a sentence, Eli is parking the truck back where it all started.

The scared princess tells the humans, “I’m not sure.”

She’s left in that cold, uncomfortable feeling of dread on the coming dangers now in her life.

As they get off of the truck their four waiting friends are there yet only Darci and Shannon are voicing their frantic questions. Toby and Claire just immediately hug Jim, silently exchanging cornered looks.

It is at that moment when Principal Rivera steps into view with Miss Mercer and Mr. Strickler 

The woman stares down at all of her students, narrowing her eyebrows with an intensity that matches Varvatos Vex.

“I am not impressed,” Principal Rivera states, walking right to them and despite her being smaller than Steve, her entire stature is intimidating, “and do you want to know why?”

“Er, yes?” Aja tediously speaks.

Principal Rivera rubs her temples, “All you kids did was take a joyride in Karl’s car and that’s it!” She spreads her arms out wide, “I did so much worse when I was in middle school! What is with this new generation and not being agents of chaos?”

Aja blinks, “Huh?”

Sighing, Principal Rivera shakes her head disapprovingly, “Arcadia is just not Miracle City, now is it. Anyway, I declare no one is the winner, the ones who rode in the car will get detention, and we don’t tell Karl about his truck. Deal? Deal!”

She claps twice to seal the arrangement and promptly marches back to the school.

“I still can’t believe she’s really like this,” Miss Mercer mutters.

Mr. Strickler is so far the only adult who’s angry, “Children I demand an explanation, immediately.”

As demanded, Krel steps up, “The blame belongs entirely to me.”

Aja doesn’t hesitate to stand at her brother’s side, “I instigated the whole thing.”

The man regards them with an analyzing look, very similar to how Senior Uhl had questioned them on their first day.

But Miss Mercer gently pulls Mr. Strickler beside, “Ah, I see. That’s all I need to hear.” When Mr. Stickler narrows his eyes at her, the teacher sighs, “I’ll brief you on their situation later.”

“You better be detailed,” he warns, casting off a curious glance to the Tarrons as the teachers followed the principal’s lead.

Once they’re gone, Aja feels ready to collapse from depleted energy. She manages to breathe out, “I’m so very sorry for getting you all involved.”

“It’s fine Aja,” Jim assures with a kind smile. “You’re not responsible for some attacker’s action and you also saved us too.”

The others respond with similar answers of kindness that truly buzzes energy back into Aja’s core.

Jim Lake is correct, Aja thinks, the queen-in-waiting can only be responsible for her own actions and decisions.

Aja is a daughter, a princess, a runaway, and a million other things and so much more.

She can choose to save and be a warrior.

This repeats again in her head later that night when she, Krel, and Varvatos fight against the dangerous tale of the Zeron Brotherhood.

Ottoman Scaarbach returns to his designated human skin as he enters the Janus base.

The urge to rub his hands tempts him, to make sure that his real sight is really with him.

He’ll never understand why the Pale Lady created her polymorphs with such hands and eyes. Either way, no one would ever dare question her.

Only Jair Strange has the madness to decide to experiment with their magic to its limits.

The first day the director arrived, everything in the Janus Order changed and that’s saying a lot for changelings.

He announced the death of Stricklander, a figurehead who was always meant to fall.

Many older agents silently expressed their confusion and grief but none denied it when Angor Rot trailed after the director.

Otto remembers assisting Strange into reaching the jungle ruins and claiming the Inferna Copula. It was so long ago, back when he thought Strange would be the answer for everything and benefit their kin.

Instead that power has motivated Jair Strange into extreme lengths.

Otto cannot tell how long he was strapped to the surgery table as pieces of him chipped off for Strange’s research.

He wants to forget it all, the paralyzing magic, the little digs into his skin that keeps digging deeper, all of that pain was overwhelming.

He wants to never feel that colossal weight of pressure trapping him, that hopelessness and despair that consumes him.

He wants to unlearn the sensation of having his eyes plucked out of him.

The polymorph finds himself cupping his hands together, rubbing gently at the palms. He calmly extracts them away, least let any catch on to his new habits.

After all, if the other polymorphs figure out his little taste of rebellion, Otto fears they’d take his eyes rather than their own.

It’s a conflicting sensation for his original troll body to lack eyes and yet still have sight once in a different form.

Director Strange told him the purpose of this experiment was to test regeneration magic infused into the polymorphs for this current trial.

So far there is no success.

All that pain for _nothing_.

Strange only expressed his frustration without an ounce of regret for all the nightmares he gave to his agents.

Witnessing the man respond to failure was chilling. It was only cold calculations of life and near death, to keep the subjects alive enough to learn from the mistakes. Because Strange believed with any data there can be improvements.

That side of Strange is determined and almost admirable through his ambition.

It’s the result of inconclusive and unknown that truly brings out the director’s ugly size.

The moment Strange cornered him into assisting in his research expedition there was an unhinged and desperate need for solid information. The changeling appeared to be seconds away from losing all sanity, clawing at his truths backed by his science and magic.

Otto later learns that was the day James Sturges abandoned his human family.

That same anxiety returned when they learned of about the new family that crash landed in Arcadia.

The Janus Order’s protocol on extra-terrestrials is to interfere as little as possible but observe as much as they can.

For Otto, he had the pleasure as being the Tarron’s substitute history teacher and learned of their story of home country and the coup that hurt their parents.

Director Strange pieced together the theory of the Tarron’s royal status and of looming bounty hunters.

No real evidence uphold that latter part until today.

Esmeralda called him to the security room as soon as school hours ended.

There was a tight feeling in Otto’s gut as he walks in to see among the wall of screen monitors, the largest one in the middle held the live time feed of their director speaking with two other worldly beings.

“He made contact?” Otto gasps.

He wants to be shocked but after having his eyes literally pop out of him, Strange’s actions will always be extreme and reckless and yet somehow there’s a method.

Esmeralda nods with a grim face, “Director Strange is right, this assassin guild, the Zeron Brotherhood, is after the Tarron family and they’ve just made a deal.”

“Why in the world is this happening?”

Otto watches nervously as the blue changeling on screen shakes hands with the canine headed leader.

“It’s the usual ‘I’ll scratch your back if you’ll scratch mine’.”

“But we all know the Director will treat it as the scorpion and the frog,” Otto rebuttals.

“Probably,” she shrugs, not bothering to question who is who, “and if so then I wonder how Area 49-B fits into this fable.” At Otto’s furrowed brow, Esmeralda explains, “Oh right, you haven’t heard. The hacker team confirmed that the trickster troll escaped from the base with some alien tech.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really wanted Jim to be the one to call out James Sturges on his shit because I always intended to have him be cornered in a house that was never his home, surrounded by a family that will never ever be his. 
> 
> The Lakes just needed this sort of closure, Jim most of all to finally have a face to a name that never fitted the title as his dad. 
> 
> Meanwhile, I gave Aja emotional crisis over the eventual canon plotlines that's catching up to her. Maybe I'm enforcing a lot of drama but whatever, she's experiencing the hardships of becoming a warrior. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	11. Tool of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do ya ever get that feeling of d'aja vu?

It was shiny, oh so shiny.

It was some shiny steel ore forged into a cylindrical rod with blue glowing lines indented in it.

It was very shiny sitting prettily stuck in the forest ground, absolutely begging for Porgon to grab it.

The trickster troll has never regretted such a simple act of finders-keepers.

One moment Porgon’s exanimating the strange device and the next blinding lights of a manmade flying car is above with those loud spinning wings.

On instinct, the trickster puts his hand out to cast a spell but the moment it flares up, the rings of magic encircle the shiny rod and _BOOM!_

_Loop One_

Porgon blinks.

He’s still in the forest on the outskirts of the human town and there’s no flying mechanism in the sky.

More importantly the shiny rod remains in his hands.

No longer distracted by its shininess, Porgon hears the incoming roaring metal wings and runs through the thick forest.

There are humans waiting for him, armed with their signature gunnery weapons.

One steps forward and she’s carrying the biggest one, “Hello Undergrounder, you have something we want.”

Yeah no, Porgon is not interested.

He raises his hand to cast a smoke spell but again his magic whirls around the shiny and _BOOM!_

_Loop Two_

Porgon blinks.

Well, he thinks staring at the shiny device in his grip.

Maybe he should drop it?

Yeah that’s a good idea…

…

…but it’s so _shiny!_

The troll runs as fast as he can through the forest, avoiding any shuffling sounds of potential humans.

Suddenly the wind is knocked out of him as heavy nettings wrap around his body, sending him rolling and tumbling down a very big hillside. Rocks and sticks and dirt hit his face as Porgon has no control of his movement.

He tries again with the magic and again it hums into the shiny thing and _BOOM!_

_Loop Three_

Porgon only has one second to take in the fact that he’s in mid run and the steel net entraps him again.

And now the impact has knocked him back down hill and his face meets rocks and sticks and dirt.

Again.

His mind is in circles has he finally reaches the bottom of the hill for what feels like a second time.

There are humans waiting for him, of course, and one comes over to whack Porgon’s head into darkness.

This was only the beginning of his pain.

The trickster troll wakes to find himself in a bland, colorless, metal rectangle with one wall made of glass. 

On the other side is the human version of alchemy labs.

Desperation and panic fills the troll because after Gunmar, this is every troll’s worst fear.

Cloaked and masked humans observe him beyond the glass with an intense gaze. A few are scribbling down notes and others are holding sharp tools.

The only one dressed uniquely is a woman in a green outfit with shiny metals pinned on the front. She’s the same one from earlier that dared speak to him with an intimidating sneer.

“Hello Undergrounder, you have something we want,” she said again, no wait not again but same as before?

Porgon winces at the tingle of fuzz wraps around his head, squeezing it tightly. He brings up his hands to hold his thrumming forehead but his left hand accidently bonks the shiny rod with him.

The trickster stares at it.

It’s his shiny thing that likely caused all of this.

“We only want that device,” the woman slowly says in an almost calming tone. It’s not convincing because of the number of masked humans still holding up their own metal sticks. Her eyes though, they’re full of scorn. “If you hand it over, I can assure you your stay here will be more bearable.”

She nods to the humans and with a press of a button, their ends of the metal crackled and buzzed with electricity.

The brightness greatly intimidates the sun and the loud strikes up Porgon’s nerves. The trickster stumbles backwards, thoroughly trapped in these four walls. His own magic crackles in defense, eager to turn the situation around like so many times before, getting him out of a pinch.

“Take cover!” The woman barks as she and the others back away from the glass divider.

After the last few spells, Porgon knows it’s the same magic linked to the shiny rod in his hand.

The red helix of his arcana encompasses the tool, ready to be used, tempting him to cast it.

It feels powerful, he realizes, more finite than any mischief he as ever created.

To think the shiny thing he picked up was a pure conduit for time magic.

Porgon holds it up, glaring at the woman with the blazing eyes. “Good riddance!”

_BOOM!_

_Loop Four_

Porgon feels the blanket of unconsciousness get shredded as he awakes, still surrounded by cold walls and glass.

On the other side, the masked humans are surprised and immediately rush over to grab either their notes or those electrical rods.

Seeing this, Porgon roars, “No, arrr!”

Magic hums within his fists as he punches at the glass, over and over again. He bashes his thick horns and this time cracks begin to form.

He’s not going to go through this, there’s no way in Darklands that Porgon is going to comply with these silly humans and their damn curiosity.

In the midst of his thrashing, that woman in charge enters the lab with a battalion of warriors carrying the heavy gunnery. She’s barking orders again but Porgon can’t understand any of it as he shatters the glass.

Trolls are natural disasters in small areas and Porgon is proud of that little fact.

He easily spooks the humans away as he begins to flip the work tables and chairs, smashing them into the aqua tubes.

Porgon is going to get out of here.

The sound of thunder emits as the gunners use their weapons and hot tiny metal darts scrape off the troll’s stone skin. The grazes sting and the multitude of noise are overwhelming, mirroring the wars of the ancients.

He tries to summon up the familiar magic of bad luck but instead it sinks into the shiny sticks’ gravity of control.

The red helix is mocking him.

Growling, Porgon ignores its call and simply does things the old fashion way.

The troll runs horns first to the wall and bashes his way out.

It turns out that is a huge mistake.

Even with the aching pain of soreness and his crumbling skin, his mind is focused on finding any escape but he can’t do so with the harsh sun above.

Radiant heat and light burns the layers of his stone flesh, stiffing him and numbing him to the point where the spotlight of fire feels deadly cold and bleak. The white light of the sun consumes his very being.

The red helixes’ hum dims and Porgon has no other choice.

_BOOM!_

_Loop Five_

Porgon is not known for patience.

He sits through the dreadful woman’s introduction and threats and insults.

He pays the electricity tipped spears with mild fear.

It doesn’t compare to feeling the sun’s poison.

The shiny stick, his doom and saver, remains clenched in his hand.

It belongs to him, he needs it, and he wants to keep it.

The woman can try all she wants on getting it away from him. It won’t matter. He’ll just use the stick’s intended purpose.

Time is on his side.

No, time is in his hands.

He wants to keep it.

He needs it.

Time belongs to him.

No one can take it away.

_Loop Twenty One_

Okay this time, for sure, definitely.

Porgon’s got this.

…wait no he’s hesitating.

No, stop, don’t hesitate, this is it.

This… this has to be it.

He’s so tired of these metal walls.

He dented and bashed around in his cell to worry the humans into transporting him into a new cage. At least by now he figured out the weak points to only startle the humans and not spook them by actually busting out like the last few attempts.

Direct action, no matter how tempting and frustrated, apparently leads to some cruel punishments lead by the woman known as the Colonel.

She is the very embodiment of humanity’s scorn at the idea of unnatural.

To avoid her, and by the gods Porgon never wants to see her face again, the trickster must learn to walk the thin line between tampering and breaking. For all the chaotic spells in his pocket, subtlety was never his strong suit but now he dons it with ease.

The humans begin the relocation, collaring him with a thin wire that tighten and squeezes at his neck. Porgon has to remind himself to not strangle the guard elsewise an armada of cannons will knock him to pieces.

Those ends happened to be the least sufferable.

As the troll is carted away in a mobile cage of barred steel, Porgon sits patiently, as passively as possible as his mind storms.

The urge to smash and run and throttle the puny humans tempts him once again. As fun as it is, the bloodshed is a waste of time. He almost regrets ever having the taste of blood.

Was it too far?

They pass by one of the labs doors and the echoes of his screams burn in his throat.

No, the undone deaths of masked humans will never measure up to the constant needles and hammers that chipped away his flesh piece by piece. For each little scrape of his stone and for each brutal fatality of his body getting drilled into, Porgon vows that time will allow his revenge.

One day those human deaths will hold permanence, Porgon craves for that. He uses all of his might to take down the Colonel whenever she has reappearance.

With time in his hands, he has spent many reoccurrences on giving into the bloodlust.

It was only a small ounce of his power.

Porgon has made so many mistakes in his escapes but no more.

This has to be it.

He wants out.

He wants out of the skin that time heals, the stone that he felt crumble and ashen and fake and weak.

He wants out of the eyes of the humans. Their cruel experiments leave him in walking nightmares of foreign metal instruments cracking his skin apart. 

The shiny stick of time remains protective in his grasp, never letting their tiny prying hands near it.

It’s _his._

His tool of time is the only thing keeping him standing, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

If his memory of this jumbled recording of events is correct, moonlight is beginning to fade into the sun. He can’t be impatient, not again as he lets the human cart him closer to where he needs to be.

It’ll be the first time for them but for him it’s just a daily routine by now.

The guards mask their nervousness as they tightly hold onto their weapons and open the door to the other facility housing his new cage of running lightning and thunder, bouncing along the wired barrier.

It has only taken Porgon a great many times to study and break it.

At this moment now he chooses to be confident in his analysis.

This is it, he wishes with bated breath as the humans carefully secure the collar, leading him out of the cart and wards the gates of the thundering dome of pain and misery.

Porgon has spent too many deaths in that damn thing.

“No more,” he growls, standing tall and giving to leverage to the humans leashing him. “This will be the last you see of me.”

As like before, the closest human hesitates, favoring a left foot back but was still in Porgon’s reach.

The troll easily snatches the guard by the neck and smashes to the guard holding the iron leash.

All the madness of the fight has become predictable at this point but Porgon cannot risk getting caught by surprises. Too many surprises have ruined his escapes, forcing him to recycle time.

When Porgon gets the chance to rip the collar off, he knows where to throw it.

Previously, he had bash it into another human’s neck or ever run rampage to get revenge on that dreaded Colonel of pinned metals.

Now Porgon catapults it at the metal box linked to the electricity and lightning.

For once the trickster troll hears an explosion that is not powerful enough to turn back the hands of time.

Instead it blows up the nearby wall.

Moonlight pours in and Porgon runs out.

Nightly patrols now bleed into sunrise patrols as the dark sky fades into its morning beauty.

Kanjigar would never spare a second to admire the nature. It’s a luxury he’ll get on the day the amulet chooses another.

He knows Barbara would scold him on his way of thinking, like she has with his other decisions and choices, but his life bound duty needs all of his devotion.

As the Trollhunter, he must give is everything to his kin.

He has to, he wants to, and yet will his all be enough?

Kanjigar defeated Bular but only after Draal lost his arm.

Kanjigar rescued Jim but the boy was entombed with a timeless evil with a keen interest on him.

Kanjigar is the Trollhunter and never has he imagined how _today_ will go.

The early rays of sunrise begin to pierce through the dense forest Kanjigar patrols in. It’s the same area he fought Angor Rot and that sure brings up memories. The look of sheer desperation and anger on the assassin’s face was haunting.

He never thought that the feared champion of the Pale Lady could look so miserable.

Before, Kanjigar loathed and dreaded ever encountering Angor Rot and now he still does only because the overwhelming amount of guilt that hums with the amulet of Daylight.

He costed Angor a new soul, interrupted the big ritual for it with Angor’s malevolent master.

Teaming up with James Struges is something he’ll always regret.

He is an insufferable man who easily inflicts pain as sharp as his smile.

How in the world did Barbara marry him?

Don’t tell Blinky but Kanjigar now fully agrees on the idea of Strickler being an improvement.

Second time is the charm isn’t it?

Oh, how innocent it is to think of time as charming, Kanjigar will soon realize as his keen senses narrows at the rush of footsteps through the thicket.

Nothing good ever comes from a chase in the woods so the Trollhunter investigates, following the noise of growls and panting over yonder. On a closer look, to his horror he sees a reddish troll desperately running the shadiest paths of the trees with two anamorphous creatures on his tail.

The leading creature has the prowess of rabid canine, sleek black scales with a metallic muzzle that matches the light armor. The other creature is of equal height and of cat aspects and hairless gray design.

Both carry bulky weapons that fire off like a human’s gun.

Kanjigar flinches at the old memories of gunfire rather than the unique blasting of this particular weaponry.

The day powdered riffles entered the battlefield was the day troll kin doubted humans would regain their humanity.

Here two unfamiliar creatures hold that same kind of malice against a troll that’s running as fast as he can.

Kanjigar doesn’t waste another thought and rushes in, summoning Daylight in his hands to knock away the dog humanoid’s gun.

The beast’s growl amplified behind the muzzle, “So you’re the silver cladded warrior.”

“And you are a scoundrel mutt,” Kanjigar counters with his sword.

As he lunges, the feline companion leaps over them dueling and towards the red troll. It’s a quick and harsh decision to guard against the mutt’s attack before looking back at the troll to see him getting attacked.

Kanjigar puts all his might in his strikes to force the canine back a few feet to run over to the troll.

The cat creature has the troll in a headlock and before Kanjigar is close enough to help, the troll raises his hand to hold up a silver rod with a magical red helix buzzing and then-

_BOOM!_

_Loop Twenty Two_

Kanjigar blinks.

The sky is pink with the sun barely peeking out of the horizon as he stands in the forest clearing nearest to the canal bridge.

…um, what?

He knows the forest like the back of his hand so how in the world did he backtrack miles from his previous location?

“Ugh, magic,” the Trollhunter groans and simply retraces his steps.

If his eyes are not betraying him then the red troll must be of the trickster path, rouge spell casters that share a likeness with mercenaries or vagabonds, the ones who dare to wander without a pack in this new world.

Now this trickster is caught in some bind with two beasts with advance weapons, nothing out of range of the Trollhunter’s usual misadventures.

He can handle this.

Oh how wrong he will soon be.

Kanjigar expertly investigates the direction he saw the chase came from, heading northbound where the mountain slopes hoist the trees high above the town.

Then there’s the light sound of footfalls nearby, so soft to hear in the empty forest.

“I’m not too keen about this Alpha,” a voice trills.

Ducking through the bushes, the troll spots the two beasts from before.

Alpha, the canine one, huffs, “Strange said the runaway trickster had some tech on him. I want it.”

“Of course you do.”

Kanjigar sneaks after them in the underbrush, trying to make sense of it all.

Mercenaries or bandits aligned with James Struges, untrusted one from the likes of it.

Still, it doesn’t explain the odd feeling of vertigo in Kanjigar’s chest. Where’s the trickster? Did he out run them this time?

The guns they hold are still dangerous, remembering the heat emitting from each blast.

The feline one has a new device in hand, “The trickster is heading west, hmm, actual nearing the Order’s entrances if memory recalls.”

“We can’t allow that to happen, Beta.”

The two breaks into a run and Kanjigar follows.

He was so close.

He knows it.

He felt the emptiness inside him getting filled up with something bigger than the universe.

A soul was finally sinking into the crevices of Angor Rot and he felt everything.

Emotions were at the tip of his talons, returned and ready and oh so fulfilling, like nothing and everything Angor knew he needed back in his damned life.

His curse was finally being lifted.

And then the speckles of a forming soul were yanked out of him.

It felt ugly, unceremonious, critical and made Angor feel so weak and empty.

His soul was stolen all over again.

There were two trolls to blame and only one of them can Angor has a chance in killing.

He is the hunter of the Trollhunters after all.

Never before has Angor felt proud of that title.

The long trek back to Arcadia did nothing to cool the assassin’s wrath.

If anything the vacant place where Angor Rot’s soul once was is now overflowing with absolute malice.

With all of his might and determination and bloodlust, his need to crush troll skulls formed into all of his ambition to get back to the Arcadia as fast as possible. No need for sleep or replenishment from a Heartstone, the perks of immortality.

Regardless of the small journey it took to swim across the ocean and sprint along mountains, alongside wishing to have a soul to feel anything other than detachment to reality, Angor makes it back to the familiar forest of Arcadia.

His options are to either confront James Sturges, nothing but spiting curses would happen, or hunting down Kanjigar the Courageous.

It is rather obvious where his mind wanders to.

And yet it doesn’t happen.

Instead he senses something in the distance. It radiates a type of ancient arcana that mages of old rarely used.

Nothing good ever comes from tricksters.

That aura of chaotic mayhem taunts and tempts Angor. His life is already horrible, what kind of damage can this trickster do?

With his extreme skills in hunting and tracking, especially on the arcana radar level, Angor easily finds the source of the chaotic energy.

It’s just a red troll cowering in the bushes, looking around frantically, eyes straining. There’s a slight tremor in his arms as he clutches onto some metal tool that hums within its own bounty of tampered magic.

The trickster troll’s jaw drops at the entrance Angor has of simply appearing in front of him.

“Seriously?” The troll stammers, “The living reaper?!” He holds up the tool and a helix of magic pulsates.

With it happening right in front of his eyes, Angor yells, “You’re casting time magic?!”

That’s not good.

That is _never_ good.

Interfering with time directly is no game at all and-

_BOOM!_

_Loop Twenty Three_

He was so close.

He knows it.

But his soul was once again stolen from him.

The long trek back to Arcadia did nothing to cool the assassin’s wrath.

Once within the familiar forest, Angor must choose to either confront James Struges or Kanjigar the Courageous.

A third option tempts him, one of chaotic energy that feels annoying and familiar.

It’s running towards the town.

Curiosity peeked, Angor follows.

Back in the forest clearing near the canals, Kanjigar disregards everything he learned about stealth to scream at the morning sky.

Last thing he recalls is trailing the pair, Alpha and Beta, and that rushing light mass exploded in the distance and blasted Kanjigar back to where he started.

Just _why?!_

Kanjigar rips the amulet out of its socket and yells, “Merlin, what the devil is going on? Argh, what is that troll doing?”

That darn trickster troll is the source all of this madness. As the Trollhunter, and his own need for answer, he has to figure this out.

Going through the forest again does not seem appealing so Kanjigar marches his way to the residential streets to barge on Barbara’s back door.

Draal, his still human son, opens it with blearily eyes and a mug of brown steaming liquid, “Father, it’s six in the morning.”

“And you’re not up training?” Kanjigar can’t help but rebuttal with a teasing grin, “Has being human changed you so much?”

His son lets his inside, grumbling into his mug, “I have to adjust to morning hours.”

Ignoring that, Kanjigar simply calls out his sister’s name until she’s stomping downstairs.

“I just got back from the hospitable!” Barbara complains and Draal hands her another mug.

“No time to explain! There’s a rouge troll on the loose and interfering with strong magic, can you sense any disturbances in the magical force?”

Barbara just narrows her tired eyes at him, takes a sip of her coffee, and leans against the kitchen countertop.

“Kanjigar it does not work like that. If every wizard was constantly aware of _magical disturbances_,” she dramatically curl two fingers in the air, the sign of quotation marks supposedly, and continues dryly, “they would all be clinically insane. There is too much output of magic that doesn’t need a wizard to flow through.”

“What? Are you sure?”

The woman pinches the bridge of her nose, “Hello, I’m the one with magical blood and a doctorate. Yes I’m sure! It’s already hard to see with your inner eye and be sane. Drug addicts can be more in tune with magical awareness and look at how damaged their psyche and bodies are!”

As the two adults loudly debated over this, Jim enters the kitchen and automagically starts cooking breakfast, “Morning, everybody.”

“Hello Jim,” Kanjigar quickly greets and turns back to Barbara, “Look, there has to be some way for me to track down this unpredictable troll. Right now he’s being chased by two other unknown creatures.”

“I’m surprised that you’re not rushing in,” Draal’s mutters were barely heard under his slurping of coffee.

“Quit your sass,” he scolded, “and I already tried that but the trickster’s magic interfered.”

“That sounds tricky,” Jim commented, sliding three plates on the kitchen’s countertop. Barbara’s had poached eggs with toasted bread and tomato puree while Draal’s had an omelet lumpy from cheese and mushrooms. On top of Kanjigar’s plate was simply a spoon.

Without a second glance, Kanjigar gratefully swiped the utensil. He really needed a light snack for the morning he has. “I need help on this. It feels like time is not on my side!”

“We’ll figure this out, yeah, yes!” Barbara’s uneven voice cracked as her head bobbed. She massages her eyes and drank up her coffee. “Hey, I think we got enough time for a nap though.”

“That is literally _not_ what I said.”

As much as Jim wants to be a part of the adventure of the day with Kanjigar, he still needs a break from all of these magical shenanigans stuff that has taken over his life.

He needs room to breathe.

And for the life of his, there’s a low chance of that, like honestly. He just learned about this deep lore from _Morgana _of all people and she’s a _ghost_.

Her entire story was just so much all at once and even after telling Mom and Kanjigar about it, and researching with Blinky, a lot of it checks out.

The legend of Merlin and Morgana has many retellings and yet their bitter rivalry always ends tragically into one of war and bloodshed. With the addition of the Lady of the Lake, that’s where Barbara and Jim have to search from their own archives of their family.

They can’t exactly go to an ancestor website to look up stuff on Nimue.

Nimue, the Lady of the Lake, still feels like a complete mystery to her own family, especially now with the connection to Lakeshore and Morgana. Then again, her origin story is of coming out of a lake to present Excalibur to her king. So that lake part checks out.

The Leyline part though, now that is very tricky.

To summarize Blinky’s and Vendel’s lectures, Barbara explained that leylines are the veins of the earth while magic is the blood. As for the heart, that’s the wizard’s job to pump and let the magic continue to flow everywhere at a healthy pace.

Somehow Jim is able to process it all and yet when asked about physical leylines, all the adults are in disbelief.

It’s unheard of or should be impossible. Morgana was likely lying but Jim disagrees.

That desperation and hurt in her eyes, in her ghostly soul, it was raw pain and hopes to see Lakeshore again.

Morgana has lost everything until Jim was born. She needs him, believes that he’ll be the reward for all the suffering and pain she has inflicted and endured for eons.

Jim has a sick feeling in his stomach at the thought of that.

It felt so chilling and scary to witness the ghost’s madding love for him.

That’s not love, he feared to admit, none of that was real familial love.

It was just a lost soul trying to hold together broken glass in bloody trembling hands.

Those memories have lingered in Jim’s dreams as of late, forcing him to resurface all the combustive emotions swelling inside. Like every morning since then, Jim forces it all down as he cooks his, Toby’s, and Claire’s lunch for the day.

Going into his usual routine helps as he makes his way to school.

Apparently the Spring Fling court needs to be here early for the special morning assembly today.

School spirit and all that jazz, said by Principal Rivera with jazz hands.

The gymnasium has a small stage set up in the middle of the basketball court while surrounded it was an obstacle course, curtesy of Coach Lawrence. It’s still in the process of being set up by Coach and Steve, lugging in safety mats under the rope ladders.

Nearby, Mary is just lying on the bleachers, scrolling through Instagram.

“Hey Jim, did you see the animal attack at the taco truck?” Mary waves her phone in his face and he catches the glimpses of the local food truck knocked to its side with its contents ravaged and spilling out.

“No, first time I’m hearing this,” Jim swiped until he reaches a short video of the truck owner down on his knees crying out in despair. From the scratch marks that dented the metal, Jim can only guess goblins are responsible for this savagery. “Huh poor Stuart.”

“You know Stuart?” A heavy accent questions with alarm. Aja is suddenly at Jim’s side and he hands her the phone. “Oh so that’s why he was crying over the communication line.”

“Oh my Guillermo, you have the taco guy on speed dial?” Mary grinned, “We need to exploit that power.”

Aja gives Mary her phone back, reminding her, “Well, even if I wanted to, I cannot due to the severe damages the taco vehicle has taken. Such a shame that must be.”

She appears cool and calm but Jim tries to find the nervous twitch of her hands or any sight of that strange weapon she had yesterday.

Before, Jim didn’t pay her much mind but now after learning of her and her family being endangered is just plain strange how this is all happening.

There was no sight of the thing chasing them and the light blasting at them felt like a powerful spell. Jim still can’t make any sense of it as he vaguely explained it to Claire and Toby. Worst of all, he doesn’t know how to help them so in order to do that he should probably gain their trust.

She’s just an enigma yet Jim notices how hard she tries to be normal.

Despite the spotlight, Aja’s humble and awkward and genuine in her curiosity. she’s not very careful though from the _done_ look from her brother. The amount of times where Aja’s just poking at stuff she doesn’t understand, this is including the water fountain, happens a lot.

Still though, Jim wants to believe her story, but it just sends him a weird vibe.

Then again, Jim hasn’t been feeling alright since attuning with the shadow staff.

Knowing it is the signature weapon of Angor Rot is one thing but to now be slowly connecting it, it’s like a new coat of magic Jim is attempting to fit into.

The shadow staff just feels naturally spooky yet Jim’s eager to train with it.

It is a very cool magic weapon after all, pocket sized too!

Still though, Jim’s kind of scared if Angor Rot wants it back. He was left in Europe after all.

Jim’s not too eager to be face to face with him or any sort of danger so soon at eight in the morning. All appears normal with competition stuff finally ready and right as Principal Rivera opens the gym doors, there’s immediate screaming from outside.

The boy runs out just in time to see a cloaked red troll scrambling for shadows while two totally non-trolls chase after him with futuristic _guns_ of all things.

Luckily most of the other students have run away leaving a few stranglers ogling at the three creatures. Mary is the first ones to start streaming the entire thing.

Well this is just not good at all.

The troll runs into the main school building and Jim sees Claire and Toby on the case. Toby’s hammer has been customized to be pocket sized while Claire simply pulls out throwing daggers. They chase after the cat looking creature because right now the dog headed one has his eyes locked onto Jim.

Instinctively, Jim pulls at the humming magic that’s as fast as his heartbeat, the energy buzzing in his hands joining the telltale ache in his eyes.

Nothing good ever came from someone glaring menacing at Jim.

The last person who growls at him with such intensity was Bular calling him a spawn.

Those bestial and intelligent eyes of a predator lock onto Jim’s.

Before Jim could command the wind or summon up his shadow staff, a familiar blaster went off at Jim’s side and Aja Tarron is slamming into him knocking them back behind the gym’s doors.

The shootout continues with Aja’s precision pinning the dog gunner to hide behind the courtyard’s trees.

“Kleb, what are you doing just standing and doing nothing?” Aja hisses at Jim but he’s too distracted by how eerily calm and composed Aja is right now.

She’s gritting her teeth, concentrating on rapidly pulling the trigger and stabilizing her grip from the constant recoil. The last time Jim saw this was on the back of the truck but she wasn’t as focused as she is now.

Jim takes a good long look at Aja and the illuminated blaster in her hands and to the otherworldly creature firing returning blasts that’s melting the doors they’re taking cover with.

“Aja, these are the people after you?”

“I can explain!” She yells with anxiety and Jim has to pull her down from a blast that is too close to her head, “I can for sure explain and wait, has your eyes been glowing all this time?”

He doesn’t answer but instead takes out the shadow staff from his bag and wills the surrounding shadows to rise up. They slowly crawl up the dog gunner’s legs and the creature frantically tries to pry the shadows off.

“I knew there was something about you that didn’t feel, well, normal,” Jim said as the cold sensations of shadow magic glides under his nails and up his arms. He risks a glance at Aja, “At first I didn’t get it but I think I do now.”

Aja gives him a similar look of revelation, “No, that can’t be. You, you’re like me?”

Her face lights up with a giddy smile and that bubble of joy in this stressful time bring relief to Jim.

Then at the same time they both said this:

“You’re an extra-terrestrial too!”

“You’re a wizard too!”

Jim and Aja blink at each other.

The boy’s concentration is completely gone, the coldness in his body saps away. As for the girl, she nearly drops her blaster.

Again both say simultaneously, “What?”

That’s the moment when the red troll comes barreling out of a hallway with Toby riding on his horns. Right behind them is the cat headed creature with Claire hanging off of the neck, attempting to chokehold the creature down.

The dog headed gunner has fired at the shadows enough time to be freed and immediately aims at the red troll.

As the blaster is shot, the red troll holds up a tightly clutched tool and suddenly there’s a helix of magic and a very bright flash of light exploding out.

With hairline reaction, Jim hopes his amateur barrier spell will be good enough but Aja’s quick draw of her blaster turns into a shield that’s big enough for the two of them.

_BOOM!_

_Loop Twenty Four_

Jim falls out of bed with a loud yelp.

He frantically looks around to see his bedroom and most importantly his alarm clock.

It reads 5:41 AM.

“What the hell?” Jim slowly whispers.

This just doesn’t make any sense and yet when Jim checks around his house, everything was just as is from the morning.

Even the coffee hasn’t been brewed yet.

He starts the pot and out of habit, begins cooking to cool his nerves. His motor skills easily falls into his usual rhythm, as he tries to not explode his mind over what Aja said.

Extra-terrestrial.

In other words, aliens.

She and her brother are aliens.

All of those signs of their foreign mannerism or the attack on them, Jim genuinely assumed it to be of a magical origin but now with clearer eyes, well…

Oh Guillermo, then that means Morgana was true about that.

“Aliens,” Jim tested the word out loud. “Aliens, aliens are really real. _Aliens._”

It’s still a funny word on his tongue that’s sending existential anxiety to his head. Like a pleasant song now becomes more distorted with each repeat and it’s an ancient voice singing.

Jim doesn’t bat an eye as Kanjigar knocks on the backdoor, calling for Barbara, _again_.

The boy opens the door and, still very out of mind, recalls, “Aliens are real.”

“Yes,” Kanjigar answered, unfazed and turns to the groggily awake Draal and Barbara entering the kitchen. “Barbara, Son, please believe me this time when I say, time is being inorganically reproduced.”

Barbara raised a finger and took a big sip of her coffee, “One, you’ve have never ever said those words to me. Two, time is not organic matter. It’s like the magnetic field. I have no idea where it comes from.”

“Father it’s six in the morning,” Draal complained, just like last time with the slow blink.

Jim looks at all of this, his brain still fried, “My classmates are aliens. Aliens are real.”

Barbara blinks, “Your classmates?”

“Ugh, I’m so stupid!” Jim slaps his forehead, “I thought they were maybe wizards at first. Like they fused magic into those strange blasters and I didn’t want to think aliens because I still don’t trust Morgana. But after the car chase, it was clearly an invisible enemy but there was absolutely nothing that made me think an _invisible spaceship_.”

“Jim, calm down,” his mom urged.

“Wait, extraterrestrials are here?” Kanjigar asked with a serious look in his eyes, “Describe them.”

“Um, they’re probably capable of shapeshifting but I’ve seen them use glowing, bright neon blasters.”

The Trollhunter’s eyes go wide, “They live in that new house don’t they? That new family?”

Jim honestly has no idea what’s going through Kanjigar’s head but he recognizes that reckless, determined glint in his eyes.

Everyone is too attached to sleep to stop Kanjigar from running out of the front door.

“It’s too early for this,” Barbara groaned as the three humans followed after the troll.

It is a glorious morning for Varvatos Vex as he beings his queen-in-waiting’s warrior training.

She shakes off the ebbs of sleep and strange dreams to smile brightly at the captain, blissfully unaware of the horrors and dishonor that is on his shoulders.

He reminds himself that protecting the royals from learning of his mistakes is a must. It is the best that he can do. Already he fears of losing them to the Zeron Brotherhood, the same fate his family has fallen to.

As a warrior, as a father, and as their protector, Varvatos Vex will do everything and risk everything for their safety.

It is his only path to redemption.

He will lay down his life for the royal family, for that will only be deemed as a glorious end.

“Alert, nonhuman presence incoming,” notified Mother.

Between pancake chews, Aja spat, “Nonhuman?”

Krel slides his fingers on the countertop to summon up Mother’s viewport and on screen was a silver cladded, horned knight running to their front door.

The king-in-waiting ordered, “Mother, activated defensive measures!”

“They are still offline and in need of repairs,” the ship announced calmly. “Also, the nonhuman presence has been identified as friendly.”

“How is that face friendly?” Krel points at the screen.

“Better question,” Aja asks, “_why_ are you even identifying this individual as friendly?”

“Unknown,” Mother answers as it is a fact.

Varvatos cracks his knuckles, “Fear not my lieges, I will take down this threat!”

Perfectly timing this, Varvatos opens the door right as the horned figure reaches for the handle. Varvatos grabs at the edges of the chest piece and pulls the knight’s face into his readied punch.

The knight stumbles backwards but quickly evades more of Varvatos’ assaults. He rolls under another punch and retaliates by head butting his horns into Varvatos’ torso.

Getting pined to the wall, Varvatos attempts to kick the knight off no matter how sturdy that incredibly beautiful armor is.

Right as the commander finally knocks the fiend down, Mother alerts evenly, “Humans incoming.”

“Oh joy!” One of the blank-bots cheered, “We better wipe up some more pancakes!”

Another gooey batter gets splatted on the ceiling.

Krel has the sense to actual jump over to close the door but gold light holds it in place no matter how hard the prince tugs.

A human boy rushes inside, his hands glowing that same gold, “Kanjigar what are you doing?”

Then two older humans stumble in, the woman dragging her hands over eyes while the one armed man shouts, “Father!”

He jumps onto Varvatos Vex’ back and with his only hand as support, he claws inside of the Akiridon’s mouth.

“Glorious!” Varvatos shouts elbowing the human off and body slamming into the knight.

“I’m not here to fight!” The knight argues despite landing a powerful blow on the commander’s face.

“Oh really?” The woman scowls, hands on her hip and a dangerous light in her eyes. “You just decided to walk into a house thinking aliens are here? And now you’re fighting an alien!”

“We do not approve of that word,” Krel huffs, stomping his foot.

Yet Aja says, pointing at the human boy, “I thought you were also not human!”

He whines, distressed, “I am! I’m just not an alien!”

“Enough!” The knight yelled as he successfully forces Varvatos to kneel with his arm painfully folded against his back, “I am the Trollhunter, Kanjigar the Courageous, and am I correct to believe you hail from Akiridion-5?”

“You deserve no answers, Trollhunter!” Varvatos struggles to thrash out of the Trollhunter’s grapple.

Over at the coffeepot, the woman helps herself with a cup and mumbles, “It is way too early for this.”

From above, Mother announces, “Trollhunter acknowledged, activating designated protocol.”

Everyone is in a state of frantic yelling and confusion as Mother’s glitching hologram are stuck in a static loading screen as Varvatos finally pries out of Kanjigar’s hold to give him a well-deserved kick.

Luug’s loud yips and yaps somehow overpower all their noise, alerting them of the sudden white light of an explosion in the distance.

To Varvatos Vex’ pride, Aja and Krel triggers the shields of their serrators to link into Mother’s current depleted shield power. Then to his confusion he sees the woman and the boy raises of their glowing hands at the door and a visible wall of light coats the house.

The Trollhunter bemoans, closing his eyes in defeat, “Here we go again.”

_BOOM!_

_Loop Twenty Five_

The residents of the Tarron house join together at the kitchen table where the blank-bots are doing a subpar job at their culinary skills.

Varvatos Vex stares harshly at his warrior student, “My liege, do you have any idea on what’s going on?”

Aja’s rubbing her forehead, groaning, “I thought it was all a peculiar dream!”

“Clearly it’s not,” Krel muttered, pulling up the camera feeds.

Varvatos huffs deeply, glaring at the screen but promptly opens the door to their guests.

The three humans and the Trollhunter are standing politely at their doorstep. The scowling woman elbows the knight’s armored arm lightly, urging her raised eye brows too.

The Trollhunter rolls his eyes and holds up a plate of chocolate chip cookies, “Apologizes for barging in.”

“And,” the woman forcefully continued for him.

“And what, Barbara?” His face scrunched up with confusion.

“And for attacking him!”

“He initiated it!”

“You _instigated _it by _barging _in!”

The boy disregards formalities for precautions by hastily shoving the arguing duo inside, “Can we not do this out in the open, please?”

Varvatos shuts the door after the one armed human and nods thankfully at the boy and then narrows his four eyes at the Trollhunter, “I do take responsibility for the quarrel but I still perceive you all as a threat.”

“Yes,” the one armed blond shrugged, “that’s pretty fair for our case. Then again, you and you and you?” He points at the Tarrons one at a time, “You all really extra-terrestrials and not trolls?”

The young royals have chosen not to disguise themselves due to the already strangeness going on.

Krel crosses his bottom pair of arms while the top pair scratch his chin and hairline, “Indeed but my questions are more important than the obvious.” All of his hands fail out, “Firstly, Aja, Lake, what did you do?!”

“We didn’t do anything!” Aja shook her head furiously, “The Zeron Brotherhood attacked the school!”

“And a troll’s magic sent us back to this morning!” The Lake boy explained and turned to the Trollhunter, “Kanjigar, you’ve been trying to track that troll down. What’s going on?”

The Ricky Blank bot has already taken the plate of cookies to the kitchen counter where the Lucy Blank bot is cheerfully serving the Barbara woman a cup of coffee.

Kanjigar, this Trollhunter of glorious armor, quickly reintroduces with family and explains the altercation with a trickster troll that has gotten involved with time manipulating magic while being chased by several nasty individuals.

“In our previous morning, I was fighting with Angor Rot which times with your Zeron Brotherhood cornering the trickster to your school,” Kanjigar summarized.

A loud serious of clinks brought everyone’s attention to Barbara swirling a spoon in her coffee. “Kanjigar,” she said patiently, evenly toned but Varvatos keenly sees there’s a slight tremor in her hands, “how many loops have you been through?”

“Loops?” Aja tested the word on her tongue as cookie crumbs fall off and then she drew circles midair.

“Time loops,” Jim Lake clarified to the two royals sitting with him at the dining table. “The trickster is rewinding time to a certain point and restarting our day.”

“I believe this is my fifth morning,” Kanjigar says hollowly.

Barbara sipped her coffee, “But was it the trickster’s fifth? Did he look experienced with this magic or something?”

“It’s likely we cannot theorized an exact number, Doctor,” Krel had one hand typing notes on a hologram and another forking his pancakes, “From the Trollhunter’s descriptions, the trickster has gotten hold of our missing energy recycling generator. In our perspective, we lost it weeks ago but it is a likely possibility the trickster has already ‘looped’ countless of times before encountering any of us.”

Draal, Kanjigar’s human son (this baffles Varvatos Vex but he doesn’t judge), reads over Krel’s shoulder, “Wouldn’t my father be aware of it though? So far he has kept his memories of the previous loops.”

“On a certain number, I have no answers but I believe my amulet is my only saving grace and curse for this situation,” Kanjigar pulls the metal disk out of his amour that dismisses with a blue light. “It protected my memory and my guess is that your shields did the same thing.”

“That said, I don’t think my and Jim’s magic helped in protecting us,” Barbara said. “This is time magic and Aka, uh-“

“Akiridion,” Aja supplied cheerfully.

“Right, Akiridion tech and time magic is uniquely different and new compared to anything I or Jim knows about.” There was a quick grimaced twitch in her face muscles, as if recalling something bad, “The only thing I can say for sure is that time magic is absolutely draining.”

Kanjigar shakes his head, “I haven’t seen an ounce of extreme exhaustion in the few times I encountered the trickster.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Barbara firmly states.

“You know what else doesn’t sound good?” Lucy chirps, “The children being late for school!”

“Agreed honey-bunny,” Ricky nodded a little too enthusiastically, “Jimmy boy and our darling Aja are needed for the assembly and gosh darn are we so proud of you two!”

Jim blinks at them and gives the Tarrons helpless, needing eyes, “So robots, right?”

Krel slams his hands on the table, “We can’t go to school! I still have questions! I need to know about the existence of trolls and magic and why Mother has a Trollhunter Protocol!”

“Trollhunter acknowledged,” Mother repeats in her usual formal tone, “activating designated protocol.”

Like last time, a hologram popped up only to be filled with static.

“Ugh,” the prince groaned, “I have to fix that.”

Varvatos Vex notice Kanjigar is about to take a half step towards the royals with a familiar look. It’s all too similar to his own face when telling the children about his first time meeting the King and Queen in the ruins of his home.

“You can do that after your school,” Varvatos said, leaving no room for argument. On his side, Kanjigar frowns but does not interrupt. “I told you and your sister about the value of patience. Practice that and go to school while we sort out the current issue.”

All three children groan.

With irritable giddiness from the blank bots, they eagerly get the children ready and human for school.

Once they’re out of the house, Varvatos stood before the troll, “Trollhunter, you know of Akiridion-5.”

“I had an audience with King Fialkov and Queen Coranda,” Kanjigar confirmed. He side glanced to the bots poorly cleaning the kitchen ceiling. “I’m under the impression that your abrupt appearance on earth brings unfortunate news.”

It takes great strength to not choke on guilt and the hollowness of regret and shame.

Yet there are strangers in his royals’ Mothership, watching him and seeking answers of a faraway world of misery and pain.

It was only supposed to be Aja, Krel, and even Stuart that need to be kept in the dark of Varvatos Vex’ betrayals.

Now more will have to hear a tragedy spoken from a fool’s lips.

Although Aja is in the loop of knowledge about the loops of time, reenacting the assembly’s events is very confusing to her mind.

Sure she ‘flopped’ it up with calling back Stuart about her already knowing about his vandalized taco truck and again with telling Mary where her misplacing phone recharger is but it is hardly her fault.

“Aja you shouldn’t hint that you know about future stuff,” Jim discreetly whispers as students fill up the gymnasium, gradually increasing the noise of chatter.

Unlike last time, the trickster troll has not been chased by the Brotherhood so nothing is interrupting the Spring Fling event and no one is panicking or screaming.

“My fault of bad,” she apologized, rubbing her eyes, “I don’t know anything anymore!”

She thought humans were confusing enough but now she learns about troll people and magic. When will her head stop hurting?

Her brother has been pestering Jim with question after question about the details which honestly, Aja was not paying much attention to.

Kleb, there’s a dangerous ploy going on and she’s stuck in the middle of this school assembly!

“We cannot simply ignore the problem and let others fix it,” she complained with righteous justice.

“I hear you,” Jim nodded as Principal Rivera finished introducing the event as the court members get to the starting line. “The moment this is over we’ll fill in Toby and Claire, get Krel, and head out.”

As the competitors, they are oh so prepared to hear the coach’s loud starting whistle over the cheering from the crowded bleachers.

They do not hear a whistle that alerts the room with energy and friendly competition.

Instead there is a bellowing war cry, “WAKA CHAKA!”

“Oh Guillermo, no, not goblins,” Jim’s entire body shuddered and suddenly the rafters above are thundering and the glass windows are shattered as hundreds of small green creatures pour into the gym.

Aja would compare this to the grand tales of the Foo-Foo’s as these strange creatures use the signature tactic of overwhelming numbers invading an enclosed area. It’s as if they are a literal wave of danger with their tiny claws and vicious fangs, ripping at people’s backs and hair as everyone stampedes to the exit.

In a tight circle, Aja is able to be in Jim’s defensive magic barrier with Claire and Toby wielding their weapons, “Jim, do you see Krel?!”

Since caution has been thrown out of the window, Aja is already blasting at these so called ‘glob-lanes’ and searching for her brother admits the chaos.

“Over there!” Toby points, swinging his hammer down a goblin.

Aja catches the telltale light of a serrator shield suddenly popping up and springing a huge amount of goblins off of Krel. As he stands up, still blocking off the rapid creatures, Steve and Eli get up at his side too.

“Krel what is this shield?” Eli’s shrill voice was full of panic and delusion because apparently that’s where his attention lies.

“Really Pepper-buddy?!” Steve complains as he kicks the goblins crawling up his legs, “Dude, these creepers are out for our blood!”

“Only because you hit them with a taco truck!” He shot right back.

Krel joins their yelling, “You mean to tell me that you two led these cretins here?!”

Before Aja could even think about their nonsense, Jim yelps at the sudden but familiar explosion of light that’s rushing their way.

“Kleb,” Aja groans, activating their shield.

Right as the light is blinding them, she barely hears Jim complain as well.

“Here we go again!”

_BOOM!_

_Loop Twenty Six_

Aja wakes up with her phone buzzing.

There are new messages pinging her notification center rhythmically, all from Steve and most of it isn’t even of the human English language.

Or maybe it is?

There’s even an unregistered number texting her but she remember exchanging contact information with Jim on the walk to school.

She can’t think of a reply when Krel opens her bedroom door to present his phone in a similar state.

Only his messages are from Eli and it is just long rambles of questions upon question about his light shield.

They siblings share a unified groan of anguish. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a good possibility I am going to over complicate this time loop with my urge to write shenanigans.
> 
> Side note, updates will now be sporadic!
> 
> Time loops were always a favorite of mine so I really want the kids to have a wild time. One way to do that is by roping teams Trollhunters, Akiridions, and Creepslayers all together. 
> 
> And then there is Porgon, gonna have a fun time with that guy and his consequences.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
